Ghost from the Past
Ten sharks waited
for nine Coast Guardsmen,
ordered to jump into the churning sea
All Rights Reserved © June 2001 by CCCNews Net
IN A BLUE WORLD of sea and sky the British freighter Wychwood churned a wake down the
middle of the Atlantic, 13 miles west of the island of Bermuda. Table-smooth water curled white as
her bow sliced southward, circling to avoid Hurricane Connie.
 On a settee in the Officers Mess the Chief Steward waited to serve afternoon tea. Droning engines
encouraged him to doze until the settee shook and he bounced around like a doll in a box. With her
engines racing full ahead, the freighter ground to a halt.
 "The Wychwood stranded on a coral reef at 3:17 p.m. on Thursday 11 August 1955," reported The Royal Gazette in
Hamilton, Bermuda. "After sliding onto the ledge," it quoted the Chief Steward, "our ship swung around on it. Captain
Thomas called all hands to emergency stations, and ordered the engines 'full astern.' Our propellers spun but the ship would
not budge."
 From an antenna high on her mast a message went out. Wychwood requested a tug to pull her from the reef and a pilot to
guide her into St. George's harbor for repairs.
Rockaway moored in St George harbor, Bermuda
Cutter Rockaway on standby
in St. George's harbor, Bermuda
 The horn of the Rockaway shattered the peace of the village and Coast
Guardsmen came running through the dark streets. Called back to work after
less than four hours of rest, they rushed to their duty stations, still in street
clothes. Not one complaint was heard. When someone is in trouble at sea,
they remembered their unofficial slogan: "you have to go out; you don't have
to come back."
Rockaway readies to get underway
  Giant diesel engines roared to life and the Rockaway cast off its mooring
lines to exit the harbor through the narrow channel—so narrow a captain
once remarked that it "was almost like threading a needle."
 The first light of dawn dimmed the stars, as the Rockaway slowed its
engines and crept to the stern of the Wychwood. The arm of a boatswain's
Rockaway readies to get underway
To the rescue
Rockaway edges to Wychwood grounded on reef
    Gulping this breakfast. they kept
hauling until a 3-inch-thick towing line
arrived at the end of the messenger line.
It was rapidly secured and her captain
radioed that she was ready to be towed
from the reef.
 The Rockaway's engines groaned
Rushing to the rescue
as the towline rose, dripping, from the watery gap between the ships and
stretched as tight as a guitar. All hands were ordered to clear the decks. The
Wychwood also groaned and barely moved. The towline exploded in the middle,
whipped back and spanked the ocean on the opposite side of both ships with a
force that could cut a man in half.
Rockaway edges to stranded
freighter Wychwood
Rockaway shoots lines to tow Wychwood from reef
 They tried again. They lost
Preparing to tow from coral reef
 It was strong enough, however, to tow. As pumps on the Wychwood sucked water from the holds and shot it out both
sides, the Rockaway steamed back to keep the Wychwood straight as the little tug towed them both.
Navy Tug Papago tows as Rockway guides
   At such slow speed, they soon concluded, they would not reach port
until tomorrow afternoon. To keep the Wychwood afloat until then, the
captains agreed, she'd need a crew that was not walking around in its
sleep, more pumps, and a lot of prayers that Hurricane Diane—heading
directly for Bermuda—would not arrive before then.
 A salvage crew arrived when a motor launch from the Rockaway
plowed alongside the sinking freighter and 12 Coast Guardsmen climbed
a Jacob's Ladder to the well deck of the Wychwood. Their young eyes
popped at seeing so much water swirling in the cargo hold. Swiftly they
hoisted portable pumps aboard and listened intently to briefings from the
English crew.
 Gasoline pumps sputtered to life and more streams of water shot from
the hold back out to the sea. As one Coast Guard officer supervised and
the other conferred with the captain, two enlisted men followed an escort
to the Wireless Room.
 The Wychwood's Communication Officer briefed Marc Tomasi, an Electronic Technician, and Chuck Harris, a former
Navy man during the Korean War, before he trudged below for badly needed sleep. Turning up the speakers the two
checked out the Handie Talkie. Tuned to a frequency of 2670, it was the lifeline between the Coast Guardsmen and their
cutter. The log they kept tells the story.
 At 2020 hours Captain Thomas on the Wychwood informed Captain Smenton on the Rockaway that "if the wind picks
up, we won't be able to batten down the hatches, due to pumping operations. We are rigging both lifeboats for readiness."
 "If the winds get too bad," Rockaway replied, realizing the first signs of Hurricane Diane were arriving, "we'll cast off the
hawsers on our end and pick up the men on your ship."
The Swirling Water Turned Red
 Though no one heard explosive snaps, at four minutes to midnight the Rockaway radioed that both towing hausers had
... "one tore through the chock and the bulkhead ... Papago is coming around to pass messengers to hook up a tow
... ask the captain if he can prepare an anchor chain for towing."
 Five minutes after midnight Harris relayed the message, "It'll be an hour before the anchor chain will be ready." He then
noted in the log that "Wychwood is dead in the water and rocking like crazy."
 At 0134 hours the Rockaway relayed another worry: "Hurricane Diane reported at 26.5 north and 60.5 west, moving
our way with winds up to 100 knots."
 An hour later towing lines were in place again and the Wychwood was moving once more.
 At dawn, however, the swirling water in the hold turned red. Thousands of bags of Barite (a powdery compound used
for drilling oil wells), were soaking open, turning the water to mud. Soon it could clog the pumps.
Taxi Blown into the Sea
 By noon, 45-mile-an-hour winds forced Bermuda's Kindley Air Force Base to close its runways to all traffic, except
Hurricane Hunters. "Windows of nearly every store throughout Bermuda," The Royal Gazette reported, "were covered
and shuttered, expecting the worst."
 "Do you men want relief?" the Rockaway radioed after a night of work. "Negative," Harris relayed, "We'll stay with the
ship. We'll walk off or swim off."
 Saturday evening The Royal Gazette reported "waves were thundering upon the rocks and beaches, whipping the sea
into a white lather. A taxi," it added, "suddenly disappeared over an embankment leading to the sea, lifted by a sudden
gust of wind."
 Knowing the Rockaway would be pulled onto the reefs flanking the narrow channel, its captain radioed for the tug
Bermudian—shallow enough to float over the reefs—to come out and take over the guiding position on the stern of the
 As the Bermudian came out, however, the heavy seas crashed over her bow and put her lower deck awash. She radioed
that the seas were too rough for her small size and returned to port.
 In sight of success, but unable to enter the harbor, the two ships were advised that Hurricane Diane was "likely to strike
within two hours." The captain of the Wychwood dropped both anchors and ordered his crew into the lifeboats.
 As 28 crewmen of the Wychwood rowed to the
Rockaway and the first boat passed her bow, the sea chose
that moment to toss it upward into the cutter's starboard
anchor. Exploding into splinters, jagged boards and
screaming men flew out into the sea.
 Quickly the Rockaway's deck force unfurled a cargo net
and the Englishmen scrambled up. Miraculously, no life was
lost, but the money and the papers of the Wychwood were.
 On the Wychwood 17 men remained—the captain, the
chief officer, the chief steward and 14 Coast Guardsmen—
without a lifeboat.  "Rockaway," Harris called into the
Handie Talkie, "This is Driftwood. What do you want us to
Coast Guardsmen line rail to abandon ship
Coast Guardsmen line the rail to abandon ship as
sharks wait below
 To avoid splintering more lifeboats, the men on the Wychwood heard, half of the enlisted men were to abandon ship
immediately and swim away from the ship. Nine men—Chores, Tomasi, Hudson, Pond, Hoops, Reitnauer, Nausley,
Stetzel and Harris—climbed onto the bulwark and prepared to jump.
Shark caught by Rockaway
 "Be careful," a voice from the radio added, "three sharks are following the boat coming to get
you." [Seaman Bill Madigan later reported this number was low. From high above on the flying
bridge he had counted ten.] But Harris had already passed the Handie Talkie to someone else.
 As the senior man in the group, Harris watched the ocean swell up to touch their bare feet, then
fall away into a chasm 2-stories deep. "Wait for my signal," he yelled to the others. On the cutter
their buddies also waited, with their hearts in their throats, painfully watching shipmates preparing
to jump into shark infested water.
 "Now," Harris shouted, as the swell rose to meet them, "go, go, go." His voice turned into
bubbles as he plunged into the sea. "Grab a hand," he shouted when his head popped up into air.
The nine men formed a floating ring, so not to drift apart and never be found.
 But the swells rose faster than lifejackets could lift them. They needed their hands to constantly
swim upward. The circle broke.
Shark caught by the
  "I'm bleeding," teenager Walter Nausley called out. Knowing
blood attracts sharks and snaps them into a feeding frenzy, Harris
shouted back, "You're first into the boat."
   As that boat from their cutter plowed at them, from a rubber raft
alongside, 19-year-old Frank Lauri dipped his arm into the sea and
grabbed the first of his shipmates. A soaking man rose from the
water and rolled into the raft.
   One by one the soggy men were pulled onto the raft and climbed
into the boat till only two were left. As they passed upwind of
Harris, Lauri grabbed his lifejacket and pulled. The wind, however,
blew the boat and raft over Harris. As tall as Lincoln and John
Wayne at six foot four, Harris had bent like a horseshoe. His bare
feet touched the boat from the under side of the raft. He desperately
kicked to swim backwards. As the soggy lifejacket
Sharks follow boat to rescue 9 Coast
Guardsmen bobbing in 20-foot swells
    On board the Rockaway, when all nine were safe,
everyone shook their heads in disbelief
: the men were
there, barefoot and bleeding
... the sharks were there ...
what kept them from attacking?
... constant kicking? ...
throbbing engines?
... ships as big as killer whales? All
anyone knew for sure was that it tortured their captain. He
wanted no more of his men in the water. The boat was
ordered hoisted and cradled.
   "Eight of us are still over here," said a voice on the
Handie Talkie. "It's getting dark fast. How do we get off?"
   The Master, his Chief Officer and the Chief Steward
climbed up to the stern to escape the well deck, now
constantly awash. The Coast Guardsmen—Officers
The Nine Return
Pulled from circling sharks, nine return
Holmes and Statlander, Chief Wingard, Radarman Frank Carlsson and Nelson, a Navy man from the Papago—joined
them near the small dinghy, the only boat left.
   Too small to hold them all, the captain wanted to use it to ferry 2 or 3 at a time to a bigger boat, if one ever came.
   Block pulleys creaked as they lowered the dinghy from its cradle with Frank Carlsson inside. Halfway down, a wave
spanked the dinghy and the bowline looped upward and fouled in the block. Hopelessly jammed, the dinghy could not be
raised or lowered further. It had been their last hope. The Wychwood now had no boats or rafts.
Uncommon Courage
   Furrows in the face of Captain Smenton disappeared when Kindley Air Force Base radioed an answer to his request.
Its heavy-weather, high-speed, high-powered crash boat, designed for rescuing flyers from crash scenes at sea, was on the
   As it split waves and sprayed a huge white "V" racing to the Wychwood, the waiting Coast Guardsmen tied knots at
intervals in a towing line. Dangling the line from the overhang of the stern, they hoped to climb down or swing to the deck
of the crash boat.
   Unable to swing far enough Nelson forgot about sharks, dropped and swam to the crash boat where he was fished out.
Officers Holmes and Stadtlander went next, followed by Chief Wingard, who almost walked on water. Carlsson, the last
Coast Guardsman off, however, saw the Captain of the Wychwood take a pill he suspected may be for a heart condition.
When he relayed his concern to the skipper of the crash boat, the Air Force Sergeant decided not to risk a heart attack.
He would take his boat to the captain.
   Using all the speed and power at his fingertips, he stabbed the bow of his crash boat under the overhang of the rising
stern of the Wychwood. His bullhorn told the Englishmen to jump directly down to his bow. The Chief Officer and the
Chief Steward jumped, injuring a toe and an ankle.
   But Captain Thomas had not jumped. Everyone held his breath. The sergeant had been uncommonly lucky to stick his
boat in the mouth of the monster and get away with it. To do it twice would defy all odds.
Wychwood sinking
Hurricane Diane threatens as British freighter
Wychwood sinks
minutes," The Royal Gazette reported, "her bow buoyant with trapped air, she remained above the waves. There seemed
to be a slight explosion as the air burst the forward hatch, and then the bow sank."
   Hearing the news after waking from his first sleep in 54 hours, Captain Aaron Thomas told The Royal Gazette, "The
American boys and the ship's crew did all in their power to save the ship. I have nothing but praise for their efforts."
   To this very day, travelers sailing into St. George's harbor wonder why a cross in the water does not bob up and down
like the buoy nearby. They do not know the men that know the answer ... that it's more than a symbol of uncommon
courage ... that it marks a watery grave ... that the cross itself is the top of the mast of the Wychwood.
When Frank Carlsson returned to the Rockaway on Monday, he told his shipmates that the Commanding Officer of the
base had reprimanded the skipper of the crash boat for scratching its brand new paint. Outraged, the Coast Guardsmen
rushed to rescue the sergeant. He rates a medal not a reprimand, they said. Their captain agreed and carried their protest
to the CO of the base. In a meeting behind closed doors the sergeant became a hero.
Coast Guard Logo
 In that harbor at the far end of Bermuda, the U.S. Coast Guard Cutter
Rockaway gleamed white in the tropical sun. Water sprayed in her showers
as young men washed away the sweat of the workday and prepared to go
ashore. Before they left, however, the speakers blared. Liberty was restricted
to the town of St. George, the Officer of the Deck announced, the rest of the
island was off limits. The Navy tugboat Papago, he explained, was racing to
an emergency. If more help was needed, the cutter's horn would blast and all
hands were to return on the double.
 As the sun neared the horizon the Papago arrived with Pilot Walter H.
Darrell. It found the Wychwood sitting solidly on the underwater reef with
water seeping into her after holds.
 Hours later, the Wychwood still sat on the reef and the captain concluded, if
she wasn't freed soon, she would never make harbor.
Pagago tows as Wychwood pumps and
Rockaway guides to correct for jammed
Rockaway boat races to rescue men from sharks
    The stern of the Wychwood rose and opened a gap again.
The engine of the crash boat roared. The bow stabbed in.
"Jump," they yelled, "Jump, Captain, jump." The stern of the
Wychwood descended to close the jaw. The crash boat jerked
full astern. In the tradition of the sea, the last to leave a sinking
ship, the captain had finally jumped.
   As the crash boat escaped and turned for shore, the crew on
the Rockaway burst into applause.
   Mother Nature, however, had the last word and it was most
ironic. As the Rockaway headed for open seas to ride out the
storm, Hurricane Diane turned away from Bermuda, passing
300 miles to the south.
   Spared by the storm, the Wychwood was still afloat at 9
o'clock Sunday morning. Shortly after eleven, however, her
stern slowly settled and disappeared into the sea. "For several
mate swung wide and a messenger line flew through the air, uncoiling till it landed
on the stern of the wounded ship. Her crew—exhausted from a night without
sleep or food—hauled on the line until a duffel bag reached their hands. Thumbs
of the Englishmen jabbed high into the air to thank the American seamen for what
they first needed most: sandwiches and hot coffee.
another towline, and they tried yet again. At 11:17 a.m. on Friday, The
Royal Gazette reported, the Wychwood was pulled free and water
rushed into her after holds. Quickly the Rockaway steamed past to take
a towing position in front.
 As she towed, however, the Wychwood did not follow directly behind;
she swerved far to the left, pulling the Rockaway off course. The
grounding had jammed her rudder hard to port and nothing they did
could free it.
 The tug Papago attached a line to the stern of the Wychwood and
steered in the opposite direction to hold the Wychwood straight.
Wychwood veered to the left a bit more slowly, but soon pulled the
Rockaway off course again. Smaller than both ships, the tug was not
heavy enough to correct the Wychwood.
pulled from Lauri's grip, he grabbed a slippery arm. When it too slipped beneath the water, he squeezed the hand and
pulled, but lifting too-many water-soaked men had drained away all his strength.
   From under water Lauri's face looked wavy, and the fear on that face told Harris it was over. He wanted to swim
beneath the raft and boat, avoiding the slicing propeller, to come out the other side. But he could not yell through water to
tell Lauri to let go. And then he knew how he was going to die.
   In extreme desperation men have been known to lift cars off victims, though they could never do it before or ever again.
That's how Lauri had to explain whatever came over him so completely that he cannot remember what he did. Nor could
Harris. He only remembers that as his face rubbed under the floor of the raft he suddenly flew out of the water, over the
raft and nearly hit his head on the upper side of the boat.