Personal Stories of the Sinking of the
USS Henry R. Mallory
February 7, 1943
If you have a family member or know of someone who was on the USS Henry R. Mallory please e-mail me and I will add that mans story with his shipmates.
Five Stories from the Marines in Hold No. 3
Marvin E. Muehl, USMC
"I remember the explosion and the feeling"
- By survivor Marvin E. Muehl from Hold No. 3
I enlisted in the Marine Corps in December of 1941 and arrived in Parris Island in January of 1942. After basic training I was sent to camp Lejeune N.C. from where I was transferred to Quantico Va. and from there was sent to Brooklyn Navy Yard where I boarded the USS Henry R. Mallory. My quarters were slightly astern amidships and on the deck at the water line. I do remember that we spent about a week to 10 days at dock before we sailed and that we visited Times Square just about every night.
We were at sea for quite some time and at night you could see one Tanker after another being torpedoed and erupting in a ball of fire and we were getting quite nervous. Two days before we were torpedoed the weather turned sour, heavy seas, and we had a lot of sick people in our compartment and because of the weather nobody was allowed on deck to get much needed fresh air, plus we had to take showers in un-heated water as the ship could not provide enough hot water.
At the time we were torpedoed I was standing in our compartment with my back against the hull on the starboard side right next to the stairwell. The hull was cold and we used this means to cool ourselves, as the compartment was very warm. I remember the explosion and the feeling that I was floating through the air and then for quite some time every thing was quiet. Then I realized that I was flat on my back lying next to the people that I had been talking too and was being trampled on by people trying to get on deck through the opening were the stairwell had been before the explosion. The sound of water running and the odor of something burning made me realize that I had to get out of there. I tried to stand and realized then that my right leg was injured and I could see a lot of blood on my pant leg. I crawled over to a stanchion by the opening and pulled myself up and was looking up through the opening when two people with a light shining down through the opening were asking if anybody was down there. When I hollered they reached down and grabbed my hands, pulled me up on deck and said you are on your own she is going down fast. I crawled to the edge of the deck to try to get into one of the two-man rafts that were floating by but I could not stand up to jump. I heard somebody holler if there was anybody else on deck. I called to them and they came over and put me on the raft, which had quite a few people on it. I remember that we almost went down with the ship as a one-inch line was preventing us from drifting free and had to be cut.
I remember spending a lot of time in those heavy seas on that raft and then looking up from the bottom of the raft when someone yelled they see us upon seeing the USCGC Bibb. I too remember the captain of the Bibb standing on the bridge directing the crew to get those survivors on board as there were sonar reports of a sub in the vicinity and the Bibb was a sitting duck. With that a line was quickly fastened under my arms and I was hoisted aboard. I was taken to the sick bay and the bunk I was put in allowed me to look out to the stern of the Bibb, I could see rafts and debris all around the back of the ship. When the Bibb got under way they fired depth charges and I thought we were again torpedoed. I spent several days in the sick bay; I think it was around 7 days, although I'm not quite sure.
I was visited by the captain of the Bibb who informed me that the ship would be leaving the convoy in the next couple days and proceed to the Naval operating base in Iceland where I would receive good medical care. After we arrived in Iceland, I was operated on and spent months in a leg and partial body cast. After my cast was removed I was transferred to Chelsea Naval Hospital in Boston to recuperate and from there I was transferred to the Naval Hospital at Great Lakes Illinois. It was there that I was awarded the Purple Heart and a received a medical discharge.
I have never had the opportunity to thank the people who pulled me out of the hold or put me on the raft so if you happen to read this and were one of these persons my heartfelt thanks because if it wasn't for You I wouldn't be here.
Marvin E. Muehl- USMC, Service No. 353653
- USMC, Service No. 353653
Joseph I. McMillen, USMC"my wristwatch was stopped at 4:00 o'clock"By survivor, Joseph I. McMillen, from Hold No. 3USMCR, Service Number 479147 Mr. McMillen contacted me about my Henry R. Mallory web page two days before the 60th anniversary of the sinking, on February 5, 2003 and he wanted to know why he was not listed as a survivor. I had asked him if he would share his experiences with me so I could add this to the Mallory's web page. This is his story: |
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- I enlisted in the Marine Corps on November 7, 1942 and reported for service at Paris Island. After nine weeks of basic training, I was transferred to Quantico, Virginia for reassignment. After about one week there I was sent to the Brooklyn Navy Yard for further assignment although it had already been decided what my assignment would be.
On or about January 23, 1943, the Mallory left New York and joined up with the convoy that was en route from Halifax. Life aboard the ship was fairly routine, with lifeboat drills and duties as assigned. Some of the guys would not sleep at night for fear of being caught in their bunks in case of an attack. The scuttlebutt at the time was that we were on our way to Iceland to relieve the last of the 5th Marines who had been there for about a year. I celebrated my 19th birthday (2/3/43) aboard ship. On February 6th, I had been assigned to KP duty and that evening, after dark, I was dumping the garbage over the side when I saw a big flash on the horizon; I guessed it was possibly a tanker that had been hit. At about midnight there was an alert and we all were ordered to put on our life jackets and report to our lifeboat stations. After about half an hour, however, the alert was secured and we returned to our quarters below deck. The Marine area was on the port side of the ship near the hatchway for the number three hold; my bunk was on the bulkhead of that hatchway. But, I did not return to my bunk. Instead, I joined a fellow Marine (Stanley A. Pasinski) from the Pittsburgh area in a couple of unoccupied bunks nearby to talk and to try to relax after the excitement of the alert. I fell asleep in that bunk.
FEBRUARY 7, 1943: I woke up to the sound of people yelling and screaming and much confusion. The area was a mess. I do not remember an explosion, and I am not sure if I may have been unconscious for a short period. But I do remember looking in the direction of where I should have been sleeping and there was nothing there. I managed to get on deck and to my assigned lifeboat, but it was gone. Then for some reason, I decided that it was going to be cold on the water, so I went back down below and got an overcoat. Back on deck, I went to another lifeboat station and got into that boat as it was being lowered. But when we reached the water, no one could figure out how to release it from the lines. Then someone found a hatchet and used that to cut the lines at one end. While passing it to the other end, though, the hatchet was lost over the side. The issue with the lines became moot, however, as we also discovered that the boat was filling with water, since no one had closed the seacock. As the waves lifted the boat, guys would jump out of the lifeboat and back onto the deck of the Mallory. I was still in the lifeboat when an object landed in the water next to me; I jumped to it. I did not land on it, but did manage to grab hold of it and climb aboard. Once aboard, I realized that it was a life raft and soon it began to rain men who were jumping from the Mallory. When morning came I counted 22 people on board. I think that was more than the raft was designed to carry, since it was riding so low we were almost up to our waists in water. I slipped off the raft once and a couple of the guys pulled me back on board. I remember that two of the persons aboard appeared to be dead. I also noticed that my wristwatch was stopped at 4:00 o'clock. (I kept that watch for many years, but some time during one of our moves around the country I lost it).
RESCUE: Although I was alive, I did not have much hope for survival, since we had been told that ships in convoys did not stop to pick up survivors, because that would make them sitting ducks for the subs. Sometime after daybreak, we noticed smoke on the horizon. We could see it only when the raft was on the crest of a wave, but we noticed that sometimes the smoke was not there, and then the next time it was there. We thought it might be a vessel picking up survivors, so when we were on the crest of a wave, we would wave all sort of things to attract attention. On one crest we noticed a signal light that looked like it was aimed in our direction, and that gave us some hope. At about noon, the USCGC Bibb stopped by the raft and dropped ropes with loops over the side. I put one under my arms and was hoisted aboard. When I reached the deck, I had trouble walking and was helped by the crew to the boiler room, where I could dry out and warm up. I was also given a cup of black coffee, which I drank without hesitation even though I had never had a cup of coffee before. Later that day I tried to drink coffee again and could not stand the taste of it. After drying out, I went out on the deck and was immediately swamped by a huge wave that broke over the bow, and I was again drenched. The Bibb was overloaded, since it carried a wartime complement of personnel, which was greater than its peacetime complement, and then it had all the survivors, some of whom were from another ship. Later in the day, while sitting around thinking how lucky I was there was a huge explosion and all the lights went out. That scared the hell out of me because I thought a torpedo had hit the Bibb. Almost immediately, the Captain came on the PA system and explained that they had a contact with a sub and had dropped depth charges on it. The charges had exploded so close they had opened the circuit breakers. The Bibb went after the sub and there were several more explosions, but none caused the lights to go out. I don't know if they sunk the sub. We arrived in Iceland on February 14, 1943, after a voyage of 21 days.
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 The newspaper clipping above was taken after he came back from Iceland and was on leave at home in a borrowed uniform. Mr. McMillen relates "Never owned a dress uniform myself but a friend in Quantico loand me his." |
"Go Down Like Marines" Torpedoed Men Urged
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Martin C. Finn, Private, USMC
"Little Brother, let us pray, That God will grant us meet someday, That I may clasp a Hero's hand, In the great eternal land"
Pvt. Martin C. Finn, U.S.M.C. |
I was contacted by Richard Morton about his uncle, Martin C. Finn who was a Marine and was lost on the Mallory on 7 February 1943. I ask him if he could share the story of his uncle with me to add here with the other stories of the Mallory. Martin C. Finn was a private in the Marine Corps and so he would have been bunked down in Hold No. 3 with fellow Marine Privates Alfred Buono, Marvin E. Muehl and Joseph I. McMillen in the general location where the torpedo hit the Mallory. Richard Morton spoke with his mother about her brother Martin C. Finn. This is the letter she provided with a poem written by her other brother Kevin Finn about the loss of thier brother that day in 1943.
My brother Martin Christopher Finn was born and grew up in Brooklyn, New York. In July 1942 at age 17 years old he joined the Marine Corp, determined to become a Marine. He was sent to Parris Island, South Carolina and later on he was stationed in Quantico, Virginia. On February 7, 1943 he was on the USS Henry R. Mallory when that ship was sunk in the North Atlantic. A survivor (of the sinking of the Mallory) of Norwegian Heritage (I never heard his name) told my parents that he asked about my brother and was told that he made it out. He never did make it. The Telegram arrived on March 5, 1943 to say that he is Missing in Action. In February 1944 he was declared dead. I was 11 years old at this time. He was a wonderful brother,always looking out for me. I think about him everyday. In Loving Memory |
| Private Finn's brother Kevin Finn, wrote this poem in his Memory. It was published in one of the New York newspapers at the time.
To My Brother |
Pvt. Joseph Alfred Buono, USMCR Service No. 502019
“Nothing else remains except family photos & memories of this brave young hero and an uncle I never knew.”
 Pvt. Joseph Alfred Buono, USMCR 30 September 1942- 7 February 1943 |
Joseph Alfred Buono, Jr. was born on September 30, 1924 in Westerly, Rhode Island. His parents were Mary and Joseph Buono, Sr. Joseph Jr. was the first child born to Mary and Joseph Sr. and they would also have a daughter named Esther. Joseph Sr. was born in Italy and became a naturalized citizen in 1920. In April of 1930 the Buono family lived in Brooklyn, New York in a rented home located at 22 Union Street. The Monthly rent Joseph, Sr. paid was thirty-dollars and as noted on the Federal Census the family did not have a radio set in the home, so luxuries at the time were kept to only the basics. Joseph, Sr. worked as a baker in a bread making plant. His wife Mary worked as a packer in a tin factory. Family remembrances recalled by Frank L. Punturieri, Joseph Alfred Buono’s nephew tell that he was an average boy, athletic and a good basketball player. Joseph Jr. was also a hard worker and in 1942, he worked down at the docks in New York and was working on the ship the SS Normandie, while being converted to a troopship during World War II, the Normandie caught fire, capsized, and sank. Joseph was nearly killed in the disaster. Joseph wanted to join the Marines when he was 17 but his parents would not sign the papers to allow him to join. However, he turned 18 in September 1942 and he enlisted into the Marine Corps on November 13, 1942 in New York and was sent to Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island, South Carolina to boot camp. Right from boot camp he was shipped off on the USS Henry R. Mallory destination Marine Detachment, Naval Operation Base Reykjavik, Iceland for training for the Normandy invasion. When Joseph left in November 1943 for training he never returned home again except for some letters he sent home, that are now treasured by his family; his belongings shipped home from boot camp when they shipped out and a Purple Heart Award post-mortem. |
When the Mallory was sunk his body was never retrieved and was reported missing. His family was notified and as per law was classified as officially presumed dead, 8 February 1944, one year and a day after the sinking of the Mallory. Pvt. Buono has been memorialized at the Cambridge American Cemetery, Cambridge, England, which is his only grave marker being lost at sea.
Frank Punturieri, the son of Esther (Buono) Punturieri, Joseph’s sister relates of his uncle, “Nothing else remains except family photos and memories of this brave young hero and an uncle I never knew.”
Pvt. Buono sister had written to another of her brothers fellow Marines inquiring about the events of his death. She was answered by Pvt. Emil S. Ellefsen who was on board the Mallory with Bono and also was a buddy to Pvt. Martin C. Finn, who's story appears above. Buono and Finn were also good friends as in Buono's personel effects was a photo of Martin Finn taken at Paris Island. Below is the transcribbed letter from Ellefsen written on August 20, 1943 while Ellefsen was stationed in the Marine Barracks, Reykjavik, Iceland. The notation he made at the bottom of the letter "Navy No. 101" was the navy designation for the post office in Reykjavik, Iceland.
| August 20, 1943
Dear Miss Buono, I remember your brother's name, but not his face. You see, when we were aboard ship and were attacked, I was fortunate to be above decks while most of the marines were below sleeping. The way I understood it after all survivors were rescued and told their story, almost all the marines had got out of the hold and into a lifeboat or on a raft. Mrs. Finn's son who was my buddy was below deck. I looked for him after we were hit but couldn't find him in the commotion and panic. I can't furnish any information about your brother except what you already know. I can't help or hinder your hopes but I can say, I pray to God that there is some more marines alive. Sympathetically Yours |
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Certificate issued to the family of Pvt. Buono from President Franklin D. Roosevelt, one year and a day after the sinking of the Mallory.
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Pvt. Buono on the training course at Paris Island.
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This photo was in the possession of Pvt. Buono's personal effects from Paris Island. It is believed to be Pvt. Martin C. Finn.
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Pvt. Buono on the training course at Paris Island.
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The Purple Heart issued to the family of Pvt. Buono
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The reverse side of the Purple Heart
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WWII Victory Medal issued to the family of Pvt. Buono
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Reverse side of the WWII Victory Medal
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Emil S. Ellefsen, USMC, Mallory Surivor
"...I can't help or hinder your hopes but I can say, I pray to God that there is some more marines alive."
Emil S. Ellefsen is known to be a survivor of the sinking of the Mallory on February 7, 1943 as he was contacted by the sister of fellow marine, Pvt. Joseph Buono asking for information on the death of her brother, Joseph Buono. On August 20, 1943 while Ellefsen was stationed at Marine Barracks, Reykjavik, Iceland. Ellefsen wrote to Joseph Buono's sister and told her what he knew of the death of her brother. This letter is still among the treasured possessions of the family of Pvt. Buono. In the letter he also makes reference to Mrs. Finn's son, which would be another fellow marine named Pvt. Martin C. Finn, who was killed along with Buono that morning on February 7th. Ellefsen also wrote a letter to the family of Pvt. Martin Finn but this letter has not survived to this day. It is assumed that Emil Ellefsen's rank was that of a Private.
Emil was born on Spetember 11, 1924 in New York to Emil Sr., and Anna Ellefsen. The elder ellefsen's were of Norwegian heritage. Emil Sr. worked as a Policeman possibly for an express agency and Anna was a telephone operator. In 1930 when young Emil jr., was five-years old the family lived in Brooklyn, New York. The only other fact known of Emil Ellefsen, a surivor of the sinking of the Mallory is that he passed away in October of 1974.
The Navy Men Tell Their Stories of Death in the Icy Atlantic
William F. Deyak Survivors Story
"When the torpedo hit us there was a tremendous explosion which blew me out of my bunk"
My name is Bill Deyak. I went into the Navy in 1942. I was on the Mallory because I was given a temporary duty assignment in Iceland. Later I was assigned to the USS O'Reilly which became my permanent ship.
On Feb. 6, 1943 one of the officers of the Mallory asked me if I would stand a post. I said I would. I figured then he must have known something was wrong. My job at my post was to get the life rafts free and get people in the life rafts.
I went to bed that night with all my clothes on to protect me from hypothermia if anything happened. I think this saved my life later. When the torpedo hit us there was a tremendous explosion which blew me out of my bunk. I headed up to the hatch but I couldn't get the hatch to open. I started banging on it with a dogging wrench. There was something on top of it keeping it from opening. Pretty soon somebody opened it from on top and we got out. I headed for my post to get the life rafts free. There was nothing to cut the lines with to free the life rafts, we had to untie them by hand. I would say most everybody was pretty levelheaded and calm during this time. There were two army soldiers who didn't want to get on a raft, I tried to tell them the ship was sinking, but they still didn't want to go. Finally I picked one of them up and threw him in the water. The second guy still didn't want to go, so I told him I would throw him in too if he didn't go on his own. Finally he did go on a raft. When we got all the life rafts off that I was responsible for I got on a raft with C. C. Pacifico (he is listed with the survivors picked up by the USCGC Ingham) and about 10 or 12 other guys. I don't remember all their names. I would say I was one of the last to leave the ship.
Our raft did not capsize like some of the rafts did, but it was rough and we were constantly battered and splashed by the waves. The Deck log from the USCGC Ingham says the winds were 6 knots, dry bulb temperature was 47 degrees and water temperature was 50 degrees. At least half of us had hypothermia by the time we were rescued by the Ingham. The Ingham's deck log also says the Ingham rescued survivors from 12:10 p.m. until about 3:45 p.m. I was told that I was among the last rescued so we were in the raft about 8 to 10 hours. I was suffering from severe hypothermia by the time I was rescued and I still have a lot of stiffness in my legs today from this. I was in the infirmary on the Ingham for several days and was in the hospital in Rejkavic, Iceland for a while also.
After I got out of the Navy all of my records were lost, I would appreciate hearing from anyone who could tell me where I might get records from the infirmary of the Ingham.
William F. "Bill" Deyak
Baker 3c, Thomas E. Wilson
"I am reluctantly forced to the conclusion that your husband is deceased. Frank Knox, Secretary of the Navy"
This story and photo was given to me by the step-son of Thomas E. Wilson who went down on the USS Henry R. Mallory when she was sunk on February 7, 1943. Below is a reprint of an article from the Coshocton Tribune with a letter from the Secretary of the Navy informing his wife on the status of Thomas Wilson. William H. Matthews is the step-son of Thomas E. Wilson. In 1938 Thomas E. Wilson married William Matthews mother. William is an Air Force veteran and served during the Korean war era.
Reported Missing Year Ago, Navy Man Now Presumed Dead
A letter received Friday afternoon from Secretary of the Navy Frank Knox blasted all hope for Mrs. Irene Wilson that her husband, reported missing one year ago, might still be alive. Thomas E. Wilson, who was one of the first Coshocton, Ohio men to be reported missing in the war, went down in a torpedoed ship in the mid-Atlantic last February. His wife, who lives at 871 Chestnut St., learned that he was missing on March 4, 1943. Wilson, who was a baker third class in the Navy, entered service September 10, 1942. He had served nine years with Battery F of the Ohio National Guard. He was 27. Wilson was born May 14, 1915, at West Lafayette, Ohio, the son of Laura and Thomas Wilson of Coshocton, Ohio. He is survived by his wife and stepson, William H. Matthews; his parents, two brothers, Grover Wilson, Coshocton, Earl Wilson, U.S. Army; three sisters, Mrs. Stella Tatro, Cleveland, Mrs. Mary Nelson and Dorothy Wilson, both of Coshocton.
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The letter from Secretary Knox reads:
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Francis J. Dunckel, Mo.M.M. 2c
"...my father was very proud to have served his country, but he just didn't talk much about that night"
Julie Dunckel shared with me about her father Francis J. Dunckel, Chief Motor Machinist's Mate (AA) (T), USNR. At the time of the sinking of the Mallory, Dunckel was a Mo.M.M. 2c aboard the Mallory. He survived the sinking and was later promoted to Chief Motor Machinist Mate and was Honorably Discharged from the Navy on Christmas Day 1945 and passed away 13 July 2002.
Julie relates about her father and the sinking of the Mallory; "My father never really talked much about the time the Mallory was torpedoed. He mentioned a few times that there were not many around him, in the water or on life rafts, who survived. The last days of his life he was not very coherent and his brother believes he may have been mumbling about the time he spent in the water. My uncle believes he never really came to terms with what happened to him. Although he survived, he knew that many did not. I know my father was very proud to have served his country, but he just didn't talk much about that night."
John W. Burns, Fireman 2nd Class
He was just like his little brother, tough as nails but a heart as good as gold
John William Burns was a young man of 19 years, fresh out of basic training from Newport, RI when he was assigned to his first and only ship, the USS Henry R. Mallory. Burns was a Rhode Island native living in Providence and joined the navy because he wanted to see the world. While serving on the Mallory, John W. Burns was a Fireman 2nd class. He did not survive the sinking and is listed among the men who died that horrible day, February 7, 1943.
John Burns had a younger brother named Robert Joseph Burns who also joined the navy during WWII and was in basic training at Newport, RI when he was told about his brother John being listed as MIA when the Mallory went down. The Navy was going to release Robert Joseph but he refused, staying in the navy and serving through the end of WWII in the Pacific.
Robert V. Burns the son of Robert Joseph and the nephew of John W. Burns, recalls that he heard many stories of John from his father, and what a great baseball player he was. Robert V. feels like he actually knew his uncle, although he was killed 14 years before he was born. Robert V. Burns relates, "When I look at these pictures I can’t help but to think, he was just like his little brother (my dad), tough as nails but a heart as good as gold."
The Burns family has a long tradition of men who joined the Navy. John W. Burns and his younger brother, Robert Joseph both serving during WWII and as did their father who had served in the navy during the First World War. Following in the family tradition of Burns men serving this Country in the military, Robert V. Burns proudly served in the Army with the 103rd Field Artillery. The Burns family tradition of military service is still continuing today as two of John W. Burns’s great-nephews, Bobby Burns and Tony Ricky are currently serving with the U.S. Navy. Interesting enough Tony Ricky is now a Navy Recruiter serving in Newport, RI, the same place John W. Burns took his basic training at.
The memory of the loss of Fireman John W. Burns on the Mallory, Sunday February 7, 1943 will never be forgotten in the Burns family. John W. Burns will always stand on the thin line of men who have given their lives to protect our Country, and his death stirred within his younger brother Robert J. Burns a feeling of duty to our Country. When he refused to be released from service when the news of John’s death on the Mallory came, Robert J. Burns was saying to the world that his brothers life was not lost but given for an ideal that the Burns family holds Freedom in the highest regard, one that six Burns family men have upheld from WWI through today.
Fireman 2c John W. Burns, USN, rests on Eternal Patrol.
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| John William Burns pictured with his girfriend, her first name was Dotty. This was taken in August of 1942 before John went into the Navy. | John W. Burns and Dotty with her kid brother taken in December of 1942 likely at Dotty's home. |
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| This photo is also taken during December of 1942. John has Dotty's kid brother pinned under him. You can see part of his leg there by John's right arm. By the looks of the outline of the shadow a woman took this photo and it is likely that Dotty took them. | Fireman 2c, John William Burns, USN. Possibly one of the last photos taken of him in December 1942. |
CM1c, James Krohl, USN, Survivor
"...Dad didn't speak much of that night..."
CM1c James Krohl |
Karl T. Krohl who is the son of CM1c James Krohl relates this story about his father surviving the sinking of the Mallory on the night of February 7th 1943. James Krohl grew up in North Syracuse, New York and was a carpenter by trade and married his sweetheart, Jane Banach on April 26, 1941 and their first of eight children was born in June 1942, a girl named Darlene. James Krohl enlisted in the Navy on October 5, 1942 along with his twin brother, Bernard (Bernard Krohl served in the South Pacific during WWII). After basic training at Great Lakes, Illinois, James was off to New York City and Long Beach, NY where he was assigned to the crew of the USS Henry R. Mallory as a carpenters mate. James Krohl survived the sinking of the Mallory largely because he had gotten off his watch earlier and was wide-awake in his bunk when they were hit. "Dad didn't speak much of that night, but occasionally, after a few drinks and lots of prodding he would reluctantly give a brief recounting while showing his Bronze Star to me and my younger sisters," recalls his son, Karl Krohl. Karl continues, "According to my father, the Marines on board were almost all lost as they took the hit almost directly to their quarters. In the scramble that ensued, Dad realized he was trapped below deck with men piling up at the exits. It was then that he was grabbed by a shipmate who said 'Jimmy, follow me!' (Dad remembered his name, but it is unknown to me.) This sailor knew a way up to the main deck through an airshaft, so Dad and several others were saved because of this man." Karl feels that because many men were lost that day, he was certain that this haunted his father for the rest of his life. "Once on deck he was forced to jump and was soon picked up by some men on a raft. My father was rescued by the US Coast Guard Cutter Bibb." After the sinking, James Krohl was stationed at Camp Knox, Iceland and later at Little Creek, Virginia and Norfolk, VA. He was awarded the Bronze Star, presumably for his efforts to get as many men out through the airshaft before the Mallory went down. James Krohl was honorably discharged and separated from the Navy on October 27, 1945 at the rating of CM1c (Carpenters Mate First Class). On March 22, 1994, James Krohl passed away and was survived by his wife and seven of his eight children and many grandchildren. His first daughter, Darlene passed away in 2002. |
Shipfitter Cyril P. Hessler, USNR Survivor
"...Cyril declined the invitation to play cards, and stated that had he accepted, he would have perished with his shipmate..."
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Grave stone of Cyril P. Hessler
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MMRM3 Cyril Paul Hessler, USN
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The following was supplied to me by Sharon Parsons, the daughter of Cyril Hessler.
Cyril Paul Hessler was born in St. Louis, Missouri on September 7, 1915. His place of entry into active service with the U.S. Naval Reserve was in St. Louis on November 2, 1942 at the age of 27. Cyril did not need to enlist, as he had a deferment due to his job at Hussmann Refrigeration. But his wife, Arleen, recalls that Cyril felt badly that so many others had joined the service, that he decided he needed to do his part.
It is believed Cyril was then sent to the Naval Operating Base at Norfolk, VA. He was rated a Shipfitter 3rd class for 20 months, and Machinist Mate Refrigeration Mechanic 3rd class for the last 5 months of his Navy career.
Cyril’s first assignment was on the merchant marine ship Henry R. Mallory, where he was one of 173 Navy personnel on board bound for Iceland when the ship departed from the Brooklyn Naval Yard on or about January 23, 1943.
While his family does not have a detailed accounting of his time on the Henry R. Mallory, they have bits and pieces as relayed to them over the years by Cyril, one of 73 Navy survivors of the sinking when the ship was torpedoed by the German U-boat U-402 on February 7, 1943 minutes before 4:00 a.m.
During the evening of February 6th, Cyril’s fellow Navy shipmate, William G. Jehling, Jr., Rank SF3, had asked Cyril if he wanted to play cards in an area of the Mallory unknown to his family. For some reason Cyril declined the invitation to play cards, and stated that had he accepted, he would have perished with his shipmate, as the torpedo struck an area of the Mallory near William, and he was killed.
When the torpedo struck, Cyril was thrown from his bunk. At first things were relatively calm, but soon there was much chaos and confusion. This transition was undoubtedly due to the fact that the Mallory sunk within a short period of time after being struck.
Cyril made it to one of the lifeboats, but experienced severe back pain and was unable to row. It is not known which lifeboat he was in. It is believed that he was in one of the lifeboats rescued by the USCGC Bibb, another part of his story that may never be resolved.
Cyril’s back was never the same after the Mallory incident. He experienced persistent back pain, which eventually led to his Honorable Discharge in 1945 from the U.S. Navy Hospital in Virginia.
It is not known for how long, but Cyril did reveal to family members that his experience on the Henry R. Mallory, and the tragic loss of his fellow shipmate, caused him to suffer recurring nightmares.
While the family does not know the specifics of Cyril’s contact with the widow of his fellow shipmate, William Jehling, Jr., who perished on board the Mallory, his family possesses a letter from William’s wife, Marjorie, to Cyril, thanking him for writing her, even though his letter brought bad news. She further stated in her letter “I have joined the women’s Marine Corp, now awaiting my call, and I hope that if Bill is above, which I know he is, that he is proud of me, and with God’s help that I do as good a job as he did”. William’s name does appear on an internet list of Navy personnel who were killed on board the Henry R. Mallory.
Cyril suffered a debilitating heart attack in 1994, and died at his home in Missouri on August 6, 1996. He donated his body to science through Washington University. He will always be remembered by his family, relatives and friends as a fun-loving guy who loved to tell a good joke, with a curious, inventive mind. Cyril spent much of his working life as a Master Plumber.
Cyril is survived by his wife Arleen, 86, four daughters and one son. Having learned more about the sinking of the Henry R. Mallory in 1943, his family has a much greater appreciation of the terrible tragedy itself, and that Cyril’s survival was nothing short of a miracle. It was not from lack of interest that his family does not have a full accounting of Cyril’s experience, but more so because he did not openly talk about it. Like some of the other survivor stories we have read, not everyone was able to relive what happened when the Mallory was sunk.
In 2007, one of Cyril’s daughters in Des Moines, Iowa, applied for a memorial headstone for Cyril at Jefferson Barracks Military Cemetery in St. Louis, MO. His headstone was put in place on August 15th, and is engraved that he was a survivor of the Henry R. Mallory.
God Bless all of the survivors of the Henry R. Mallory, and may all those who perished rest in eternal peace. The Hessler family extends their heartfelt sympathy to the families, relatives and friends who lost their loved ones that fateful night.
Robert Alexander Donaghue, USNR, 650-17-37
Robert Donaghue was born in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, and enlisted in the Navy reporting for duty on January 16, 1942. He reported to the Philadelphia Naval Reserve Station before hading for basic training at the Naval Training Station in Newport, Rhode Island.
After basic training he was shipped to Norfolk, Virginia, and then to the Armed Guard Training School at Little Creek, Virginia. After Armed Guard training he reported to the Armed Guard Center in Brooklyn, New York.
S1c Donaghue served on board the newly commissioned SS Samuel Chase on runs to Murmansk, Russia. He came on board in April 1942. He was a member of the gun crew that received a unit citation for courage during the ill-fated PQ-17 convoy to Russia in June and July 1942. While on the Samuel Chase Donaghue would have served with Seaman Wolf, Jenkins, Doyle and Dixon, all serving both on the Samuel Chase and the Mallory. Four of the five men, Donaghue, Dixon, Wolf and Jenkins were lost at sea that night on the Mallory, only Seaman Doyle was rescued.
His next duty station was on board the SS Henry R. Mallory coming on board in November 1942. Seaman Donaghue was reported missing in action when the Mallory was sunk on February 7, 1943. He was listed as M.I.A. and presumed dead on February 8, 1944.
During his service he was awarded the WWII Victory medal and Lapel pin and a Purple Heart.John James Dixon, USNR, 650-16-99
John Dixon was born in Merion, Pennsylvania, and enlisted in the Navy reporting for duty on January 16, 1942. He reported to the Philadelphia Naval Reserve Station before heading to basic training at the Naval Training Station in Newport, Rhode Island. After basic training he was shipped to Norfolk, Virginia, and then to Armed Guard Training School at Little Creek, Virginia.
S1c Dixon served on board the newly commissioned SS Samuel Chase on runs to Murmansk, Russia. He came on board in April 1942. He was a member of the gun crew that received a unit citation for courage during the ill-fated PQ-17 convoy to Russia in June and July of 1942.
His next duty station was on board the SS Henry R. Mallory coming on board in November 1942. Seaman Dixon was reported missing in action when the Mallory was sunk on February 7, 1943. He was listed as M.I.A. and presumed dead on February 8, 1944.
During his service he was awarded the WWII medal, the American Campaign Medal, the European-African Middle Eastern Campaign medal and a Purple Heart.
Edward T. Doyle, USNR 650-17-30
Written by his son, Edward T. Doyle, Jr, PhD
Edward Thomas Doyle was the son of Simon G. Doyle and prior to enlisting in the Navy he lived with his uncle and aunt, Mr. and Mrs. James Dougherty of Media, PA. Edward attended Nether Providence Township and graduated from St. Robert's High school. Edward was active in athletics playing baseball and football. To his close friends Edward was known as "Ducky" Doyle. He worked at the Sun Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company before enlisting in the Navy.
 S1C Edward T. "Ducky" Doyle |
On December 14, 1941, less than a week after Pearl Harbor, my father, Edward “Ducky” Doyle, and a group of friends enlisted in the Navy at the Naval Reserve Station Philadelphia. Apprentice Seaman Doyle, USNR, reported for duty on January 15, 1942. On January 17th he was transferred to the Naval Training Center in Newport, Rhode Island. After recruit training he was transferred to Norfolk, Virginia, Fifth Naval District and on March 23rd was transferred to the Armed Guard Training School, Little Creek, Virginia. By April 14th he was transferred to the Armed Guard Center, Brooklyn, New York, and assigned to Gun Crew #256E. On April 20th, he was detached as a member of the Armed Guard Unit on board the SS Samuel Chase with a rate change from S2c to S1c. On board the Samuel Chase, he was assigned to convoy duty between the United States, Iceland, and Murmansk, Russia, including duty during the ill-fated convoy PQ-17. After sailing from Iceland on June 27, 1942, the Chase and the other 33 ships were attacked on July 2 by German planes. The attacks continued over the next few days with planes and submarines. The convoy was eventually ordered to scatter and each ship was left to their own devices. Six near-misses on July 10th caused heavy damage snapping steam lines and blowing the compass out of the binnacle causing the crew to abandon ship at one point. Only 5 of the original 33 ships made it to Murmansk-Archangel from PQ-17. Historian Samuel Elliot Morrison called the convoy “the grimmest convoy battle of the entire war.” Morrison lauded the Navy Armed Guard crews of the Chase and two other ships, the Washington and the Daniel Morgan. The Chester Times, the local newspaper in Delaware County, Pennsylvania reported: |
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“Media Seaman Is Decorated” Edward T. Doyle, Media, was one of four members of a gun crew on a merchant vessel who were decorated for courage during a recent combat, the Fourth Naval District announced today. Others were Robert A. Donaghue and William H. Mayer, of Philadelphia, and John J. B. Dixon of Narberth. |
On November 12th Ducky Doyle was put aboard the SS Henry R. Mallory, one of 31 Armed Guard personnel to join the ship that day. While on board, the Mallory made one crossing to and from the States to Iceland between November 1942 and January 1943. Its final run to Iceland at the end of January 1943 would end in the tragic sinking of the Mallory by U-402.
On February 7th the Mallory as part of SC#118 (#33) was torpedoed some 600 miles SSW of Iceland. The Mallory was carrying a cargo of clothing, food, trucks, and cigarettes as well as 610 bags of mail along with 383 passengers, a crew of 77 and an Armed Guard of 34. The ship sank within thirty minutes. There were 270 men lost. 224 were rescued.
Ducky Doyle was rescued by the USS Bibb along with another 204 survivors some 6 to 8 hours after the sinking. Sadly, many of his friends and Armed Guard personnel were lost including John Dixon and Robert Donaghue, whom he had known since the day he enlisted some two years earlier. After rescuing the Mallory personnel, the Bibb returned to convoy duty for a week before putting in at Reykjavik, Iceland, on the Sunday, February 14th at 1900 to discharge survivors. Ducky was detached to the USS Chateau Thierry for transport to the states.
On Thursday, May 27, 1943, he was transferred to Washington, DC, for duty on board the USS Dauntless. The USS Dauntless was moored at the Washington DC Navy Yard, Pier 1 in the Potomac River and was the flagship of Admiral King, Chief of Naval Operations. During duty on board the USS Dauntless he witnessed a cast of dignitaries who visited the ship. During his year long tour the visitors included Secretary of Navy Knox, Under Secretary of War Patterson, Chief of Staff to the Commander in Chief Admiral Leahy, Admiral Halsey, Army Chief of Staff General Marshall, General Arnold, General Vandergrift, Vice Admiral Horne, Vice Admiral Waesche, and Vice Admiral McCain. All were on board late into the evening on Monday, January 24, 1944.
In addition, on March 6, 1944 visitors included Secretary of Navy Knox, Secretary of War Stimson, Admiral Nimitz, General Arnold, General Vandergrift, Vice Admiral Horne, Vice Admiral Mc Cain, Lieutenant-General Vandergrift, Rear Admiral Sherman, and British personnel including Staff General Dill, Head of the British Naval Delegation, Admiral Noble, Air Marshall Welsh, and Lieutenant General MacReady.
Deck logs during this period of time indicate President Roosevelt’s two Presidential yachts, the USS Potomac and the USS Sequoia tied up alongside the Dauntless. On April 29, 1944 USS Dauntless Deck logs report that pursuant to orders Edward Thomas Doyle was transferred to the Receiving Station, New York City for duty on board the USS Abnaki, a newly commissioned Fleet Ocean Tug operating along the east coast. Just prior to the Abnaki being ordered to Oran, Algeria, Ducky was transferred to the Minecraft Training Center in Little Creek, Virginia, from May 17th to June 2, 1944. He was detailed on June 2, 1944 to Brooklyn, New York, for duty on board the Minesweeper YMS-462 and was on board when the Minesweeper was commissioned.
In April 1945 orders transferred him to NAV TRA SCH—Naval Training School Gunner’s Mate Electric Hydraulics School at the Washington, DC Navy Yard. On May 18th he was transferred to the Naval Proving Grounds in Dahlgren, Virginia, for a six week assignment in maintenance and operations of machine guns; ammunition stowage and handling. He finished 5th in a class of 38 with a final mark of 91.
On July 13th he was transferred to the Anti-Aircraft Training Center, Pacific Beach, California, for duty in the Advanced Base Pool basically for duty in the Pacific Theater. On September 12th he was transferred to the Receiving Barracks, Shoemaker, California, and on October 20, 1945 was Honorably Discharged at the USN Personnel Separation Center in Bainbridge, Maryland, after three years 9 months and 6 days of naval service.
My father, like many veterans, rarely talked about his time in World War II. As children we were not astute enough to ask questions or understand the need to record that history. There are some anecdotal things my brothers and I can add. For myself, my dad told me one of the happiest days of his life was when Japan surrendered because he was poised for transfer to the Pacific having undergone recent gunner training.
He was always proud of his service and how he was involved in during World War II. I don’t think he ever stopped thinking about the friends he lost especially John Dixon who he served with from the first day through those harrowing 320 days between April 1942 and February 1943. Dad said his prayers every night. As a child you said your prayers because you had to and always wondered why dad seemed to never miss saying his prayers. I have a strange feeling it had something to do with those 320 days and probably a lot to do with the 7th of February 1943.
"Ducky" Doyle, USN (on the right) with friend Tommy Dickens, USA
"Ducky" Doyle (on the right) with shipmates presumed to be John Dixon and Robert Donaghue while they were stationed at the Armed Guard Center, Brooklyn.
"Ducky" Doyle (center) with shipmates presumed to be Robert Donaghue and John Dixon posing for the camera while on the town at Coney Island.
Two Ships, Two Men, Two Heros
The story of Seaman Alfred Wolf and Seaman James Joseph Jenkins who served together on the USS Samuel Chase and the USS Henry R. Mallory, both being killed in action on the Mallory
Alfred Wolf, who was born in Germany, would later be killed in action at the hands of his former countrymen in the Icy North Atlantic while defending his ship and Country in 1943. Born in Germany on 1 August 1923 Alfred Wolf came to America where he became a citizen and enlisted into the United States Naval Reserves on 7 January 1942 in New York. Wolf was sent to Newport, RI on 11 January 1942 where he went through boot camp, and upon completion on 11 February 1942 was sent to the Naval Operating Base at Norfolk, VA for additional courses of instruction. Later on 23 March 1942 Seaman Wolf was sent to the Navy’s Armed Guard School at Little Creek, VA.
Here at Little Creek the men were trained intensively as Armed Guard crews that would be used in the defenses of Merchant Ships sailing the deadly waters of the North Atlantic Convoy routes. Upon completion Seaman Wolf was assigned to his first merchant ship, the SS Samuel Chase, where he reported on board for duty on 20 April 1942 as part of her first Armed Guard crew. The Samuel Chase was an 11,760-ton troop transport ship that had been launched 23 August 1941. The navy acquired her in February 1942 and she was formerly commissioned as USS Samuel Chase under the command of CMDR Roger C. Heimer, USCG on 13 June 1942.
CMDR Heimer and the inexperienced crew of the Samuel Chase had precious little time to familiarize themselves with their new ship as on the 27 June the Samuel Chase was part of a 35 merchant ship convoy named PQ.17 that was bound for Murmansk, Russia carrying much needed war material. There were arguments that the convoy should be postponed until later in the year but due to the great need of this material in Russia political pressure insured that the convoy would sail no matter what danger lay in her path. PQ.17 would be destined to become the deadliest Russian bound convoy during WWII with 25 of the 35 merchant vessels lost. The Samuel Chase would be one of the very few ships to reach Murmansk.
The convoy of 35 merchant ships were escorted by 16 combatant naval ships and sailed on 27 June 1942 for Murmansk. And then on 2 July the Germans attacked and kept up the attack for several days straight. Samuel Chase managed to survive the ordeal of PQ-17 despite the six near-misses from enemy bombers on 10 July, that caused heavy damage, snapping several steam lines, cutting off all auxiliaries, and blowing the compass out of the binnacle. Her gunners fought their weapons efficiently and courageously in what naval historian Samuel Eliot Morison calls "the grimmest convoy' battle of the entire war."
Morison lauded the Navy armed guard crews of three particular ships: Washington, Daniel Morgan, and Samuel Chase. "Their clothing was inadequate and their ammunition insufficient," he wrote, "but their fighting spirit never failed." For his part in the gallant defense of the Samuel Chase during the battle of PQ.17, Seaman 1st Class Alfred Wolf earned a letter of commendation which praised his meritorious conduct in action.
Another of the Samuel Chase’s Armed Guard was Seaman James Joseph Jenkins; he and Wolf would later both serve on the USS Henry R. Mallory, which would be torpedoed and sunk on 7 February 1943 and both Jenkins and Wolf would not survive this attack. Seaman Jenkins wrote a letter to his family back home describing the events of the battle of PQ-17. In the letter he says “...we had smooth sailing until July 2 ... About 10:30 AM we spotted our first enemy plane, it followed us all day, but did not attack us. All clear was given at 9:00 PM. We did not sleep that night waiting for action.” Tired and frozen from the weather the gun crews kept to their stations for two more days when on July 4, 1942 about 3:12 AM battle stations rang. Jenkins states “we ran to our guns just in time to fire at a plane which came down out of the clouds and dropped a torpedo which missed our stern at about 100 feet and hit the SS Christopher Newport. The torpedo did not sink the ship, but had to be shelled by the destroyers. They lost three men down in the engine room.”
Seeing the Christopher Newport hit, the men on the Samuel Chase had to be thinking this could be our fate also. The guns crews again stayed on their guns until at about 6:30 on the evening of the 4th when they finally were able to come in to eat something. The relative peace was only to last about 10 minutes as about 6:40 PM General Quarters was sounded again. Seaman Jenkins described what happen next, “...We ran out and there must have been about thirty or more German planes, each carrying two torpedoes. Their squadron leader (who we found out later to be Hans Decker) flew right over the center of our convoy, flying at about a height of two-hundred feet coming in from the stern of the convoy and reaching the beginning of the convoy only to be brought down in a mass of flames.” This attack by the German planes only lasted eight minutes but during that time 3 ships of the convoy were sunk and countless men died. Seeing the carnage the Convoy Commander ordered the remaining ships to scatter and sail on at full speed alone to avoid any more destruction. On board the Samuel Chase, Captain Heimer carried out his predetermined orders given to him before he sailed. The orders were in short “there was to be no surrender of any U. S. ship.” Captain Heimer’s orders stated, “the ship shall be defended by her armament, by maneuver, and by every available means as long as possible.” In the event his ship was going to be taken then the captain was to ensure her destruction, by any means possible. This order was to be transferred down the line in case the captain was unable to carry it out.
The strain of Captain Heimer to his responsibility to his orders in hand and the safety of his crew were almost unbearable to the new commander. Often crews were all too ready and willing to take to the lifeboats if the ship were to be in a dire situation. An example of this happened on the Samuel Chase on the 5th of July. Seaman Jenkins of the Samuel Chase explains the events this way, “...we spotted a submarine coming from the stern of the ship rapidly over taking us. When it cut across our stern it submerged. Just then our ship stopped, we were waiting for a torpedo to strike any second so we abandoned ship for about three or four hours.”
At 10:30 in the morning, Captain Heimer had had enough and rang the ships telegraph to engines full astern. The Samuel Chase came to a full stop and all hands took to the boats and within 15-minutes were away from the ship moving about 600-yards away. As Seaman Jenkins and Wolf drifted in the lifeboat watching the Samuel Chase with no one on board they wondered when she would be hit. The Samuel Chase, a brand new ship was just sitting there making an easy target for the German U-boat, but he did not attack her and after more that two hours Captain Heimer decided to take the Chief Engineer and a small engineering force back on board to raise steam. By two o’clock that afternoon steam was up and the crew and boats back on board. Seaman Jenkins continues with his telling of the events of that day, “...We sailed for about five hours and I spotted a German plane following us. It followed us for about two hours and we lost it when we hit a fog bank. Then we met two of our escort vessels, which were English. They signaled us and told us to head for the nearest point of land because the German Fleet was loose and steering 60 degrees North Longitude at 25 knots. The German Fleet consisted of two battleships and six destroyers.”
The Captain and the bewildered crew of the Samuel Chase on 6 July spotted the welcome sight of Russian land. But as Seaman Jenkins described their ordeal was not over as easy as that. “We met four other merchant ships and three naval ships. We anchored there over night and got orders to move onto our point of destination. We left at 5:00 PM heading for our point of destination. We ran into a heavy fog and many ice flows, losing all the ships except one merchant ship and two corvettes.” Sailing on for another 4 days on 10 July the Samuel Chase, sailing under a heavy fog and many ice flows, and losing all the ships except one merchant ship and two corvettes saw anti-aircraft fire about twenty miles ahead of us so her Armed Guard crews stood by the guns waiting for action. Seaman Jenkins described standing watch at the guns in a simple matter of fact way, “...which is a great strain on the nerves.”
At about 3 O'clock in the morning on board the Samuel Chase, six German dive bombers dove in on the weary gun crews dropping 3 bombs each. One missed very close by the Samuel Chase low in the water, which from the force of the explosion broke the steam lines. The Samuel Chase stopped dead in the water and the other ships with her continued on leaving her to fend for herself. Finally a Corvette came alone and got the Samuel Chase in tow for a few hours until she could make repairs and continue on her own steam. The Germans returned and gave the Samuel Chase and her gun crews an additional thirteen-hours of trouble until two Russian planes came to chase them away, leaving the Samuel Chase to sail on to her destination un-harassed.
It was during the events of the last several days of her voyage that Seaman Alfred Wolf distinguished himself and earned his letter of commendation. The last voyage Seaman Wolf and Jenkins would sail on the Samuel Chase was a troop convoy to Belfast, Ireland where they arrived on 6 October 1942. Then on 24 October, two days before she was to sail to Algiers in the Mediterranean to take part in the Allied invasions of North Africa, Seaman Wolf and Jenkins were transferred to the USS Henry R. Mallory, which was another troop transport as part of her Armed Guard. Wolf reported on board the Mallory on 12 November 1942 at New York.
Once again in the safety of the American soil Jenkins and Wolf likely felt they had narrowly missed death in the icy waters of the Artic Sea. But with-in five days the game was on again as the USS Henry R. Mallory sailed for Reykjavik, Iceland, where she stopped at St. John's and Halifax, Nova Scotia, before she returned via Boston to New York.
Seaman Jenkins and Wolf, the two weary sailors of the Samuel Chase and the Mallory, had to be feeling as if their days were numbered. As the USS Henry R. Mallory sailed out of New York on 24 January 1943 to sail once more to Reykjavik, this time with convoy SC-118, it was likely that Seaman Jenkins and Wolf together looked upon the sweet sight of the Statue of Liberty and wondered if they would lay eyes upon her stately form ever again. They would never again see her as on the early morning of 7 February 1943 a torpedo from U-402 made sure that the Mallory would never sail back to New York. Both Seaman Jenkins and Wolf would loose their lives that morning.
The heroic efforts of Seaman First Class Alfred Wolf did not go un-noticed and on 26 October 1943 the name of Alfred Wolf was assigned to the John C. Butler-class destroyer escort DE-544 being built at the Boston Navy Yard. Her keel was laid at the Boston Navy Yard on 9 December 1943. However, due to changes in wartime shipping construction priorities, work was suspended on the ship on 10 June 1944 and cancelled altogether on 5 September 1944. Subsequently, the incomplete hulk was broken up on the building ways.
Two Best Friends... One Gave His Life So The Other Could Live
The story of Seaman James Joseph Jenkins and Seaman Sydney C. Buffett. Seaman Jenkins gave his life so that his best friend could live and to go on to marry Jenkin's sister.
The story of Seaman James Joseph Jenkins will always be linked to the story of Seaman Sydney C. Buffett. The two sailors were shipmates on the USS Henry R. Mallory and were both on board when she sank on that terrible morning in February of 1943.
Seaman James Jenkins was already a veteran of the bone chilling and deadly convoy routes to Murmansk, Russia having sailed on another ship the USS Samuel Chase. While Jenkins was on that ship he befriended another sailor named Alfred Wolf. Seaman Wolf distinguished himself with courage and valor during the dark days of one of the deadliest journeys to Murmansk on the Samuel Chase. Now serving together on a new ship the Henry R. Mallory, Jenkins and Wolf met Sydney Buffett. I think that the bravery of Seaman Alfred Wolf rubbed off onto Seaman Jenkins as later when perilous times came to the men of the Mallory, Seaman Jenkins did a very brave thing to save another man’s life and to insure the well being of Jenkins little sister back home. Although at the time I’m sure James Jenkins did not see it that way.
As the morning of 7 February 1943 began the men on the Henry R. Mallory could not know that that day all of their lives would be linked forever and be changed in an instant. Being that Wolf, Jenkins and Buffett were among the Mallory’s Armed Guard gun crews they all would have been on edge and may have already been at their guns that morning. It was common for the gun crews to stay and even sleep at their guns during times of great danger to the ship. But no matter what they were doing at the time when the German torpedo slammed into the Mallory’s No. 3 Hold, they were all quick to act.
In just a few short moments, which likely seemed a lifetime to the men on board the Mallory, James Jenkins and Sydney Buffett found themselves at a lifeboat with room for only one more man. That morning, in the icy waters of the deadly Atlantic, James Jenkins would do one of the most heroic things a man can do for another man. James told Sydney to get in the lifeboat and that he would get another lifeboat. James Joseph Jenkins, Alfred Wolf and many other men of the Mallory would not survive that morning.
Seaman Sydney C. Buffett found himself alive in the dark icy waters of the North Atlantic with other men who had somehow survived the ordeal. As he and the other men in his lifeboat struggled against their new enemy, the sea, Sydney may have been thinking about his two shipmates, Alfred Wolf and James Jenkins. There was no way to know if they had survived or not, but one thing was for sure, James Jenkins had forever changed the life of Sydney Buffett in ways he could not imagine at that moment.
Alfred Wolf was not rescued and died that morning. James Jenkins was however rescued by the United States Coast Guard Cutter Ingham after being in the freezing waters for over 4 hours. But James was too far gone and died after the crew of the Ingham pulled him from the water.
Seaman Buffett was in a lifeboat that was rescued by the USCGC Bibb. Commander Roy Raney of the Bibb had his crew over the side on the nets picking up the men from the Mallory, and among them was Seaman Buffett. Raney’s men were wasting precious time trying to get men aboard who were barely alive or already dead from the cold. After he learned that two men rescued by the Ingham died after being pulled aboard Raney contemplated what to do, and being that he was hazarding his ship and crew from a possible attack by a sub, he gave the order to save only those who were still alive or looked as if they would survive being hauled aboard. Little did Seaman Buffett know that one of the two men who died on the Ingham that caused Commander Raney to give his orders was none other than the man who had fatefully saved and changed his life forever, Seaman James Joseph Jenkins. The Bibb and her crew that day hauled 205 men of the Mallory on board.
Seaman Sydney C. Buffett would serve the rest of the war in the navy and would serve on six different ships during the war. They were the USS Chateau Thierry, SS Henry Villard, SS Henry R. Mallory, SS James Duncan, SS M. V. Manuel and the SS Cape Pembroke. But fate had set the wheels in motion of Syd Buffett’s life. The Jenkins family received the personal effects of James Jenkins, which contained his address book. His 16-year old sister, Betty, wrote to the sailors who were listed in the book trying to find more information about the day her brother lost his life. Everyone advised her to contact Syd Buffett as he was James’ best friend on the ship.
After Sydney finished his survivor’s leave from the Mallory, he was sent to Russia because they needed experienced gunners. Betty and Syd corresponded for a year before meeting for the first time in February 1944. On August 16, 1944 Syd married the sister of the man who saved his life and they had their first child in 1946 who was named James in honor of Betty’s brother James Jenkins. The boy who carried the name of an American hero, James Buffett would one day follow in the footsteps of his father and uncle, Syd Buffett and James J. Jenkins, and join the navy, to serve his country during the Vietnam War. Syd and Betty were married for 46 years at the time of Syd’s death on May 12th of 1991 of lung cancer. At the time of Syd’s death he and Betty had raised a family that consisted of 3 children, 6 grandchildren and 4 great-grandchildren.
Betty Buffett, who is in her 80’s, is still living today and she keeps with her the memories of her two heroes, her husband Syd and her brother James. Several years ago Betty had a bronze plaque placed in the Calverton National Cemetery on Long Island, New York in memory of James Jenkins. Sydney Buffett is buried there in Calverton National Cemetery but Betty’s brother James Jenkins was buried at sea. The Memories of Sydney and James now rest together again many years after that fateful moment that changed both their lives on 7 February 1943. Betty also donated both the flags that were presented to her in honor of Sydney and James to the Calverton National Cemetery and are still flown today on holidays at a place in the cemetery called “The Avenue of the Flags.”
The bronze plaque Betty Jenkins Buffett had placed in Calverton National Cemetery. |
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Seaman James Joseph Jenkins was posthumously awarded the following medals for his sacrifice to his Country during WWII:
American Campaign Medal
European-African-Middle Eastern Campaign Medal
Navy Good Conduct Medal
Purple Heart
WWII Victory Medal
Gold Star Lapel Button
Honorable Service Lapel Button
Navy Honorable Discharge Button
New Jersey State Distinguished Service Medal and Citation.
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Along with the personal effects of Seaman Jenkins were the names and addresses of four men from the Mallory that were friends of Seaman Jenkins. The names were; Ed Byrne of 64 Alden Street, Lynn, MA; Bob Fenton of 50 Lewis Street, Pontiac, MI; Luke Lofaro of 202 East 97th Street, New York, NY and Alfred Wolf of 558 West 181st Street, New York, NY.
Byrne, Fenton and Lofaro were known to have survived the sinking and were likely picked up by the Bibb as she rescued the bulk of the Mallory survivors but it is not known for sure. Additionally it is also likely that these 3 men were Navy men and likely were also part of the Mallory’s Armed Guard. US Navy Seaman Alfred Wolf was not among the survivors from the Mallory.
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The following is an article from the Newark Star Ledger, detailing the death of James Jenkins. It is not known what the exact date was.
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James J. Jenkins Reported Killed Newark Youth Joined Navy Day After Attack On Pearl Harbor James J. Jenkins, who joined the Navy the day after Pearl Harbor and who was credited with shooting down a Nazi plane during an attack on a Russia-bound convoy, has been reported killed in action. His parents, Mr. and Mrs. Greg Jenkins of 19 Fleming Avenue, received a telegram from the Navy Department saying he had been buried at sea. Jenkins was born in Newark 18 years ago. He attended St. Aloysius's school and East Side High School and before entering the service he was employed by the Display Box Company. He was an amateur boxer and while stationed at the Naval Air Corps, Norfolk, he won two boxing Trophies. The youth, a seaman first Class, was a gunner during a convoy to Russia. His father was a veteran of World War One and served overseas. He is now a civilian guard at Newark airport. A sister, Elizabeth, is employed in a war plant. There is another sister, Mrs. Margaret Reigal, and a brother, Russell, 14, a pupil at St. Aloysius's school.
The postal telegraph dated February 22, informing Greg Jenkins that his son was killed in action 15 days after his death on February 7, 1943. |
While serving on the Henry R. Mallory, Seaman James Jenkins wrote this about his experiences while serving on the USS Samuel Chase. It details the trip to Murmansk, Russia in the deadly convoy known as PQ.17
A Trip To Russia On Board The USS Samuel Chase
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| Wedding photo of Betty Jenkins and Sydney C. Buffett on August 16, 1944 along with her sister Margaret Reigal who was the maid of honor and the best man, Harry Galante |
Seaman First Class James Joseph Jenkins, an American Hero and Patriot.
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The photos and information for this story of James Jenkins and Sydney Buffett was given to me by several members of the Buffett Family. Granddaughter Peggy Hughes, daughter Gale Buffett Stockman and Betty Jenkins Buffett, truly a family effort.
Carl Marvin Fields, Apprentice Seaman
Carl M. Fields, was an Apprentice Seaman in the United States Naval Reserve, and was on the Mallory the night she was hit. Seaman Fields was not rescued and lost his life on the morning of February 7, 1943. Carl was from the Ohio and Kentucky area and his mother was named Belle Fields from Corinth, Kentucky.
Fremont Lee Goza, Machinist Mate Second Class, Survivor
"...he was picked up by the Bibb and he would never tolerate anyone who spoke a bad word about the Coast Guard"
 MM2c Fremont Lee Goza, October, 1942 |
Fremont Lee Goza was the second child born to Ruth Eleanor and Frank Carl Goza. Frank Goza was born in Missouri in 1880 and worked as a carpenter to support his wife and 3 children. Frank and Ruth’s first child was a daughter named Doris born about 1915, followed by a son, Fremont born in May of 1916 and finally another daughter named Grace E. born about 1918. When Fremont was 13-years of age the family lived in a rented home on East Main Street in Carterville, Jasper County, Missouri, in which the rent was 12-dollars a month. Fremont was the star center of the local high school basketball team, and they were state champs in 1935. After graduation from high school Fremont played two years for the University of Arkansas. He worked for the CCC and was also in the National Guard for a while. Fremont originally tried to enlist in the United States Marine Corps to follow in the footsteps of his Uncle James Goza who fought in France during WWI but the marines would not take him because he was too tall! Like many other young men from Missouri, Fremont Goza felt his Country needed him after the events that happened to pull the United States into the Second World War, and so at the age of 26-years he joined the U.S. Navy. After his induction and training, Fremont found himself outward bound form New York for Iceland aboard the USS Henry R. Mallory. Machinist Mate Second Class, Fremont L. Goza on the morning of February 7, 1943, suddenly found himself adrift in the Mallory’s No. 8 lifeboat in the stormy, icy cold North Atlantic with many of his fellow shipmates, some of which were dead and some for now were among the living. Fremont likely thought to himself, would I be among the living or dead when this is all over? Within a few hours the USCGC Bibb came and rescued those men in Lifeboat No. 8 and Fremont was hauled aboard her and given dry, warm clothes. Fremont would live another 65 years and 12 days after being rescued by the Bibb. Fremont Lee Goza passed away at the age of 91 on February 19, 2008. He lived at the time of his passing in Banning, California where he had lived for several years. |
After the war ended Fremont came home to the Joplin, Missouri area and lived at 304 South Liberty Avenue in Webb City, Missouri. At the time he was still in the Navy and his present rating was Machinist Mate First Class. On September 29, 1946 at the Joplin, Missouri Naval Recruiting Station, Fremont was enlisted into the Naval Reserves on inactive status. Fremont would serve another seven years in the Reserves, and was finally released from service with the U. S. Navy in 1953.
Fremont’s daughter, Ruth Warren related of her late father. “My last visit with him was to celebrate his 91st birthday. I took my laptop with me and showed him the Mallory website and read many excerpts to him. He still was reluctant to talk about the experience. He would only say that it was terrible, the most horrible day of his life.” Ruth continues, “Growing up I never knew the name of the ship he was on but I did know that he was picked up by the Bibb and he would never tolerate anyone who spoke a bad word about the Coast Guard. I also had an older cousin who was stationed on the Bibb in the 1960’s and when I was living in Key West there was a big article in the paper about the Bibb being sunk offshore and made part of an artificial reef.”
Ruth continues, “As for the actual sinking of the ship my father only said that he had been sleeping and was awakened by the explosion and ensuing commotion. He mentioned having to force open a hatch to get up on deck and that he was in lifeboat No. 8. Once onboard the Bibb he helped the ship’s doctor attend to those who were wounded. His back was hurt but he never mentioned it to anyone, a mistake he regretted and suffered from until yesterday (Feb. 19, 2008). In 1992 he discovered a Captain Waters (who I see was Lt. jg on the Bibb at the Mallory sinking) who lived near me in Florida. We went to visit and he signed a copy of his book “Bloody Winter” for my father. It was not until that day that I realized the horror of that night. Captain Waters had vivid personal recollections as well as photos of the Mallory sinking. I believe he has since passed away also.”
Ruth did show the photos from this web site to Fremont before he passed away and Ruth her daughter Grace and Fremont all thought he may have been in one or two of them.
Ruth describes her father, “he was very tall, 6’4” with black wavy hair and rather large ears.” Ruth and Grace believe that in the first rescue picture they think he may be the sailor in the upper right at the right side of the officer with the flat top hat. He seems to be looking out to the sea. Ruth recalls, “I did show him that picture and he thought I might be right.” And in the photo of the lifeboat with the mast they believe he may be the man standing at the mast in the lifeboat.
Years after the sinking Fremont gave to his daughter Ruth something from that morning. “He has given me the red light that he wore that terrible night. I also have his sea-bag and hammock as well as his uniforms (they had to be specially fitted due to his height). He was very proud of his time in the service and always said he wanted to be buried in his uniform, he is being cremated so I will keep the uniforms for now. My brother has all of his ribbons and medals.”
Ruth tells that anyone who served in the armed forces during WWII, and any American who helped on the home front (activities include working in defense-related industries, recycling of materials needed for the war effort and more) is eligible to be registered at www.wwiimemorial.com
Veterans can register themselves or be registered by friends and family members. They will be forever linked to the WWII Memorial in Washington DC. To get a form for standard mail registry call 1-800-639-4992.
Ruth stated that, “I registered my father just a few days ago, never got a chance to tell him. A man at church gave it to me. He takes a group of vets to the memorial every year on Memorial Day and in the fall.”
Ruth E. Warren, daughter of Fremont L. Goza shared the photo and recollections of her father.
The Mallory's Merchant Marines
Ship's Cook George K. Dunningham & His Dog "Ricky" Survives Sinking
"...it looked like a weird dream to see those little red lights bobbing up and down"
| Heather Macdonald Moe also shared with me this story about Dunningham and his dog "Ricky" and how Dunningham had paid a visit to her great grandparents to tell them how their son, Capt. Ernest W. S. Macdonald, Army Chaplain, sacrificed his life to help others. It was said that Capt. Macdonald I was told that he may have been saved, but he kept going down below deck to help others off the sinking ship. Heather shared with me these newspaper clippings about Macdonald and Dunningham she found in a scrapbook which belonged to her great grandmother. Heather thinks that these were probably printed in the Quincy Patriot Ledger (Massachusetts).
Below is the transcribed undated article about George K. Dunningham and his dog "Ricky". Ricky was later rescued by the USCGC Bibb. Commander Roy Raney of the Bibb, spotted "Ricky" clinging to some floating debris, as his men were pulling survivors on board. Raney shouted "Someone get that damn dog!" Winthrop Man Tells Of Rescue After Torpedoing |
 George K. Dunningham, Mallory Ship's Cook |
SURVIVES SHIP SINKING
George K. Dunningham of Winthrop, a cook aboard an American merchantmen torpedoed recently, gives thrilling account of the disaster. The rescue, made by a Coast Guard combat cutter, is one of the largest number saved in any sea disaster in the present war. The cutter not only managed to effect the rescue, but took time to a depth charge lurking Nazi submarines in the vicinity were the disaster occurred.
Dunningham in relating the thrilling story of the night attack and destruction of the ship, said that the excitement started on the 13th day out, when the gun crew sighted two unidentified planes circling the large convoy. They flew around the convoy several times, and failed to answer the challenge for identification, but were too high to fire at. At once the ship lurched and staggered as the torpedo hit her without warning. When she came back to an even keel, the Order " abandon ship" was sounded and everyone filed to his station. Everything was surprisingly calm and orderly. Having been alerted twice, we expected it. I went to my boat station and helped lower away. That's where our boat drill training paid dividends, for everything went off like clockwork. Due to the smashing up of life boats and rafts on the other side of the ship, our boat was heavily overloaded.
Many In Water
It was black as pitch and men were yelling and blowing whistles, many were in the water, each with his red rescue light lit. These are now part of the regular equipment and it looked like a weird dream to see those little red lights bobbing up and down. Another lifeboat in along and took off 40 of the 90 men we carried. We threw out the sea anchor and used our oars to keep head into the sea. Only for life boats got free, but there were dozens of rafts crowded with men.
We shot up flares from the Very gun at regular intervals until daybreak. Just before dawn we picked up two men who were swimming. They were in tough shape, and later we saw two men on the raft, both badly injured. These made me forget about the cracked elbow I received when I fell on deck just before climbing down the cargo net into the lifeboat.
Day finally broke, gray and cold, the waves were running high and we were alone on a big ocean, with none of the other boats or rafts in sight. We felt awfully small and lost, then we saw ship on the horizon heading for us. We knew somehow she was friendly and that our troubles were over. We'd only been adrift five hours. In 10 minutes we saw the most beautiful ship in the world, better than the best painting you ever saw. It was the Coast Guard cutter, one of the 327-footers. The Captain put that cutter alongside us in that heavy sea just like a cabdriver parks his cab. But the waves were so high that I was able to step right on to the deck of the cutter when the waves lifted a lifeboat up.
Cling To Rafts
As soon as we got aboard they gave us dry clothing, food, hot coffee and cigarettes, and put us to bed. They were swell. Within half an hour the cutter picked up more survivors, and then as the search continued, the sound man got contacts with a sub. Patterns of depth charges were dropped, and then the cutter came back to the business of rescuing survivors. Once a bunch of rafts were found, crowded with men, and some in the water hanging on. Some were too weak to grasp the lines, and Coast guardsmen leaped overboard to tie the lines to them so they could be hauled in.
Dunningham said when the ship was torpedoed he had lost a little white mongrel dog, "Ricky" given to him by a soldier. He thought the dog had been lost, but later spotted him sitting on a raft after the last man had been rescued. The Coast guardsmen soon brought "Ricky" aboard. Dunningham presented the pup to the cutter as a mascot.
Shortly after words, Dunningham related, 33 officers and men from two United Nations ships torpedoed nearby, were picked up so that the cutter at 235 extra people on board.
It was necessary for the men to take turns sleeping in watches or shifts. The cutters crew gave up clothing, cigarettes, candy and bunks to the survivors. The doctor was on 24-hour duty in the sick bay, administering to the sick and injured, snatching a few hours' sleep now and then on deck. Again submarines were detected in the vicinity, and the cutter flayed the water charge after charge. It was believed that in at least two attacks, the subs were hit.
Dunningham a native of Nashua, New Hampshire, and now living with a sister in Winthrop, was making his first trip to sea, and he will ship right out again as soon as is injured elbow is well again. The loss of the ship on which Mr. Dunningham served was announced officially by the Navy Department on February 22nd, 1943.
Cadet Midshipman Robert E. Helling
Cadet Midshipmen, George Race, Richard Holland, Jay Hammershoy, Frank Roberts
Robert E. Helling was a Cadet Midshipman at the U.S. Merchant Marine Academy at Kings Point, NY. He was on board the USS Henry R. Mallory at the time of the sinking as Third Assistant Engineer. He survived the sinking and below is his report that he gave to the Navy upon arriving in Iceland after being rescued by the USCGC Bibb.
His son Bob Helling tells this of his father, "Although my father died in 1968, I remember him talking about that night many times."
Bob recalls one of the stories his father told of that morning. "I remember him saying that he was in the engine room when the torpedoe struck the ship. He said that he was in a T-shirt as the engine room was hot and when he got up on deck, it was like walking into a freezer. He said that while in the life boat, he was bent over bailing with a gear box as the seas were stormy and the boat was taking on water. One of the guys behind him threw up on his back and he said that was a wonderful feeling as it was so warm. These are the kind of stories that don't make the movies. He also talked about the mayhem on deck. Several boats were cut away with only a few men in them and others were way overloaded."
There were several Cadet Midshipmen on board the Mallory and three Cadets were lost during the sinking. They were Cadet Midshipmen, George Race, Richard Holland and Jay Hammershoy. Cadet Midshipman Robert E. Helling and Cadet Midshipman Frank Roberts survived the sinking and were picked up by the Cutter Bibb.
Cadet Midshipman Robert E. Helling survived the sinking of the Mallory and served on other ships but the Mallory was his first and only sinking during the war. He made it through the rest of the war OK and made full Lieutenant, US Navy. After the war, he taught Marine Engineering at the Naval School in Kansas City, MO. for several years.
This is Cadet Midshipman Robert E. Helling's report he gave to the Navy in Iceland:
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Assigned to vessel USS Henry R. Mallory November 5, 1942 and it left New York January 24, 1943 in a convoy consisting of 80 ships. The ship position was number 33 in a seven knot convoy. Weather was moderately fine first week, after that generally bad. We had aboard 430 troops and passengers composed of Army, Navy and Marines and cargo consisted of mainly Army equipment such as tanks, guns, trucks, clothing and 200 tons of ammunitions and shells. The ship was struck February 7, 1943 at 03:58, zone time plus four. We were hit without warning and the torpedo struck in number four hold, which served as a troop compartment. The ship was split wide open and began to sink. When the ship was hit, I was on watch in the engine room. I was talking to the other engine cadet, George Race, who had just come down to the engine room a few minutes before his watch took over. He left the engine room immediately after the explosion. That is the last I saw of him. The aft engine room bulkhead had carried away due to the explosion. The machinery in the engine room was badly damaged. The main propulsion engine slowed up but did not stop. Many steam pipes were broken. All the auxiliary machinery was stopped except for the generator, which continued to function perfectly. Most of the floor plates were blown from the deck and the forward engine room bulkhead door was blown out. I was pitched across the room and against the forward engine room bulkhead. Upon getting to my feet, I saw the second assistant engineer closing the throttle on the main engine. After the entire engine room crew had left, the second engineer and myself started for topside. All the engine room crew got out without injury except for one man who was cut across the face. Upon reaching the boat deck, I went to my boat station. We lowered number 4 boat but someone cut the boat away from the ship only partially filled with passengers. Now that my boat was gone, I didn't know exactly what to do, so I assisted in the lowering of number 6 boat and operated the after falls of number 8 boat next I stood on the boat deck and watched the troops swarming down the nets into the boat. I noticed that there were only two of the ship's personnel in the boat with all the passengers. I thought it would be best for me to get into the boat and help as the soldiers had very little experience in handling the lifeboats. It was lucky for me that I did this as I found out later that it was the last boat to leave the ship. The boat I got into had a capacity of fifty persons, but there were over eighty persons in it. The gunnels were only about one foot above the water. This overloaded condition together with heavy seas which were breaking into the boat caused her to fill up despite the continuous bailing which we did using hats, cupped hands, buckets and gear boxes, plus everything we could get our hands on. The temperature of the water only being about 28 degrees resulted in much suffering, not only to us in the boats, but to the many men on life rafts and in the water. A great number of them perished due to this weather. While we were in the boats, most of the equipment had to be sacrificed and thrown overboard for the lack of space in the boat. When daylight came, we noticed a Coast Guard Cutter way off in the distance and I fired rockets in the air while the other Cadet displayed a yellow distress flag on the pole. All [men] in our lifeboat were rescued by the US Coast Guard Cutter, George M. Bibb. The remainder of the day, the Bibb and the Cutter Ingham picked up survivors from the water, but no attempts were made to pick up the dead who were in the water. While on the cutter, we were made as comfortable as could be expected under the circumstances until we landed in Iceland on February 14. We left Iceland on March 23 and arrived in Boston April 1 [1943]. Due to the loss of the vessel, it is my sad duty to report the loss of Cadet Midshipmen George Race, Richard Holland and Jay Hammershoy. I, along with the other Cadet, Frank Roberts, have questioned all survivors regarding the loss of the three Cadets, but no one could give any information about them whatsoever. It is felt certain that if had the three Cadets who are presumed lost, by any miracle got into a raft, they could not have survived due to the seas, snow storms and extremely cold weather which developed shortly after we were rescued. Written by Cadet Midshipman, Robert E. Helling, USS Henry R. Mallory |
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Cadet Midshipmen Robert E. Helling,
United States Merchant Marine |
United States Merchant Marine Academy, Kings Point, New York, 1944
Midshipmen Helling is fourth from left front row. |
Midshipmen Robert Helling and his fiance Mary Catherine Lammers, Christmas day, 1943 in St. Joseph, MO.
Robert and Mary were married in September of 1944 and Mary still lives in Independence, MO.
Below is a letter written by Victor A. Race, the brother of Cadet Midshipmen George Race who was lost on the Mallory, to Robert Helling asking for information about the fate of his brother.
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April 7, 1943 Mr. Robert E. Helling My Dear Mr. Helling: I have just received a letter from Mr. Arata of the War Shipping Administration in New York about my brother, George Race, as follows:
As you can well imagine, Mr. Helling, my Mother and I would be forever grateful to you if you could find it in your heart to write me whatever you can about George. This tragedy has been like a horrible nightmare to my Mother—and the most tragic part of all is that we have absolutely no information from any official source, although I have exhausted my ingenuity and spent a small fortune in long distance telephone calls to survivors I have read about in the newspapers, but all to no avail. The letter I received this morning telling me about you was like a message from heaven, for it is probably through you that my family will have its last contact with my brother. I know it will probably be painful for you to write, but I can only tell you that whatever you are able to write will mean more than life itself to my Mother. We know, of course, that the vessel was the Henry R. Mallory, bound for Iceland and went down on February 7th. What Mother would like to know most, of course, is whether George is definitely dead. I understand that there was another Engine Cadet by the name of Hammershoy on board with you and George who was also reported “Missing.” Hammershoy’s Mother lives only ten miles from here in Glenbrook and she also knows nothing about her son. If you know anything about her boy and wish to pass the information on to me, I know that she too would be grateful. I can’t begin to express in words how happy I am for you and your family that you survived this sinking. Sincerely yours, |
Below is the letter Robert Helling wrote back to Victor Race about his brother George Race. According to Bob Helling, Robert's son this letter was actually written by Robert's father Herman F. Helling. Later in life after Robert had passed away Bob Helling learned this from his grandfather Herman that at the time Robert was so over wrought by the sinking and the loss of his shipmates that he could not bring himself to write the letter. Bob Helling states about this letter, "I had hesitated to send you these letters before as they are very personal. However, history is not always pleasant and I feel must be preserved to be accurate."
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Dear Mr. Race, Just arrived home and learned of your letter regarding George. Although he and I were very closely associated, I am sorry I cannot give you much information regarding him. At the time the ship was struck, we were engaged in conversation in the engine room and he left immediately for topside. I did not see him again. Several boats were swamped and it is my assumption that he may have been in one of them. After we were picked up eight hours later, I personally checked all survivors and George was not among them. Being good friends and also in line of duty, I made a special effort to locate him. Due to extreme weather conditions, I am almost confident that a person could not have survived long in those angry waters. |