Trafalgar School - Echoes Yearbook (Montreal, Quebec Canada)

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them , he thought, but doubted if even Heaven could help them if they were hit. The next two ships were small and fast, carrying miscellaneous cargo vital to the war effort : aeroplane parts, jeeps and other assorted pieces of equip- ment. It was the size of the fourth ship that made Captain Sar- geant look twice. She identified herself as S.S. Silver Star —oil tanker— Halifax — Captain, Benjamin Jones . Sar- geant ' s eyes travelled the length and breadth of her hull, which enclosed thousands of tons of fuel oil. Then he sent a signal to her captain — Good luck. CompHments to Lead- ing Seaman Sargeant — Captain Sargeant, H.M.C.S. Okan- agan. His eyes twinkled as he went below to his cabin. He picked up the picture of his wife and glanced at his son ' s: Together on a greedy ocean with hungry U-boats crowd- ing round — no, Ellen, this is no place for ladies! It was 2340 hours that the U-boats disrupted the tran- quility of the spring night. The silvery moon played hide- and-seek behind the clouds as the twenty-one ghost-like craft wended their way across the Atlantic. The first ink- ling of approaching danger was contained in a signal from H.M.C.S. Mohawk, a corvette on the starboard side of the convoy, which had picked up a faint asdic contact. Fearing the worst. Admiral Cartwright despatched her to investigate. Suddenly, signals were flooding the bridge from all escort vessels. At least six subs had been detected. Two destroyers and three corvettes pitted against six U-boats — slippery as eels. H.M.C.S. Okanagan had just veered off course to track a strong echo, when starshells suddenly illuminated a ship zigzagging frantically astern. Seconds later, the dreaded sound of a muffled explosion reached Captain Sargeant. He swivelled round, and saw the ship settling in the water, but still miraculously under way. There was nothing he could do; he had to dispose of the U-boat ahead. Admiral Cartwright, whose ship was stationed in the centre of the convoy, was besieged by reports of the action. Mohawk rejoiced in a definite kill; the other corvettes were depth-charging suspected targets; Okanagan was on the tail of a fourth. Then the Admiral, too, heard the stifled boom; the Germans were wasting no time. He swept his binoculars over the scattering convoy, searching for the victim. Sudden- ly, a tongue of flame leapt high from the funnel of a bulky ship astern. She immediately burst into fire amidships, throwing a revealing glow around her, while ugly black smoke mushroomed skyward. Still she did not stop careen- ing ahead. Damned fool, Cartwright roared, he ' ll have us all blown to hell and cremated as well, for the blazing in- ferno endangered the safety of nearby vessels and served as a beacon for U-boats miles away. Admiral Cartwright ordered her captain to leave the convoy and then abandon ship. To his astonishment he was handed a reply, I will not give up. The Admiral was furious. The idiot! He ' s not brave. He ' s scared of getting his feet wet! Cartwright quickly considered the situation. The Silver Star would be lost in any case; better now than later, when she might have provided day-like conditions for the enemy, or set other ships afire. He sent a signal to H.M.C.S. Okanagan, the warship nearest the scene. Captain Sargeant was having a difficult time locating his submarine. He had dropped pattern after pattern of depth charges with no apparent result. He was completing a leg towards the convoy when, on a sudden impulse, he asked the deck officer the name of the stricken ship. Silver Star, Sir, a tanker I believe. The Captain stiffened, his face blanched and sweating. A sailor burst onto the bridge. Signal from the Admiral, Sir. Sargeant snatched the paper from the bewildered boy. Proceed to sink Silver Star with torpedoes. Return forth- with and continue the hunt. He stared unbelieving at the message, then let it flutter to the deck. His knees felt watery, his head hazy, his heart crowded his throat. Working mechanically, he manoeuvred Okanagan into firing position. The sight of a colossal fireball plunging ahead filled his eyes. An officer stood by the voice-pipe, waiting to give the fatal order. Stand by to fire two torpedoes five seconds apart, Captain Sargeant told the officer, who repeated it to the torpedo crew. The torpedo tubes swung out. Sargeant, his eyes glued to the target, gave the command to fire. The officer bent over the voice-pipe, but the Captain suddenly leapt at him, hurling him aside. Damn it, I ' ll do this my- self, he rasped. He put his mouth to the voice-pipe, his hands shaking uncontrollably. God forgive me, he whis- pered, then, in a voice hoarse and choked — Fire! The first lethal fish dove eagerly into the black sea, and five seconds later its twin followed. Captain Sargeant watch- ed them streak towards the Silver Star. Suddenly she surged out of the sea. A deafening roar re-echoed from ship to ship, flames shot hundreds of feet high. Then they quickly subsided, as the tanker, her back broken in two places, was engulfed by the waves. The sea was alive with burning oil; a few black shapes flopped helplessly on the surface, only to slip under, one by one. Soon even the oil was consumed by the fire, and as Sargeant ordered Okanagan away, the moon emerged from behind a cloud, casting a silvery shadow over the water grave. Continue the hunt. Captain Sargeant turned away, tears blinding his eyes. Had his son died as a result of the German torpedo, or had he himself killed him? The Captain would never know. Louise Pigot, Form VI B

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FORTUNE OF WAR A bloody hue flooded the western horizon marking the sun ' s grave. The far-reaching sky was concealed by a steel- blue curtain. The inky sea heaved restlessly, sending sheets of fluorescent spray arching over the destroyer ' s lunging bow. She sped stealthily onward, a slim graceful lady on the surface; an efficient and effective fighting machine beneath her grey warpaint. Her captain observed gratefully the sun- set being absorbed by the sea, for soon his ship would be protected by the cloak of night, no longer a perfectly sil- houetted target for the torpedoes of some lurking U-boat. He steered a course due west, but as soon as the last colour had drained from the sky, sent an order to the helmsman. A few minutes later, heeling hard a-starboard, the ship pointed her nose towards the frigidness and obscurity of the North Atlantic. It would be an eternity before Captain Sargeant again appreciated the solitude and relative comfort of an empty ocean. He was to be thrust into a state of life- long mental agony within the next twenty-four hours. Bom and raised by the sea, in the port of St. John ' s snuggled in the south-east coast of Newfoundland, Captain Sargeant had joined the Royal Navy as a junior gunnery officer at the outbreak of World War 1. After an honourable discharge, he had returned home and gone into his father ' s boat-building business. During the post-war years, he met a young Canadian girl from Halifax, whom he subsequently married. When storm clouds gathered over Europe and the threat of another war became imminent, Sub-lieutenant Sargeant entered the blossoming Royal Canadian Navy and sailed from Halifax the day after war was declared. Promo- tions are quick during war-time, and after distinguished ser- vice in the first dark years, he was put in command of H.M.C.A. Okanagan. That same year, his son joined the British Merchant Navy in the Silver Star, an oil tanker. Now, in 1944, when things were looking up for the Allies, Captain Sargeant, a toughened but war-weary sea dog, urged his ship northward. He had orders to join a secret convoy bound for Liverpool. The rendezvous was scheduled for 0800 hours the following morning. With the outside world a void to the human eye, and the reassuring throb of the engines ringing in his ears. Captain Sargeant took time out for a much-needed rest. Unless they disturbed a careless U-boat taking a breather on the surface, he anticipated a peaceful night closing the gap with the spot in mid-ocean where his charges would be waiting for him. Nevertheless, he left the standing order to arouse him if anything untoward came up. Once in his cabin, the Captain sat down at a makeshift desk. Extracting a large black pen from its holder, he pro- ceeded to write the day ' s events in his diary. Behind him was a bunk covered with a grey blanket. There were few of his personal belongings around save a photo of his wife in a tarnished silver frame, and a similar one of his son on a shelf at the foot of his bunk. This way he could gaze at them on awakening. Shutting his journal with a snap, he rose, checked his watch, pulled off his boots and sank with a sigh onto his bunk. Reaching up, he adjusted the voice- pipe from the bridge, so that any mumbled message could not help but resound unmercifully through his head. He drew the blanket over his crumpled uniform; sleeping un- dressed is an invitation for the unexpected to happen. The picture in his mind shattered as a harsh voice pene- trated his brain — Captain to the bridge! Dressed or not, the unexpected had arrived. Captain Sargeant hurled back his covering, and, yanking on his boots, made for the bridge. Two sailors and the Officer of the Watch huddled over the asdic repeater. Tension ran high and was intensified when the Captain issued the call to battle-stations. Then followed the clatter of many feet on the steel decks and the ship came to life as the various locations reported all hands fallen-in. Of all times to run head-on into a pack of ' sardines ' thought the Captain. Not only would he have to take dras- tic evasive action, but the last thing he wanted was to lead the U-boats by the hand to the convoy. Praying that they hadn ' t picked up the pulse of Okan- agan s propellers, Captain Sargeant reahzed that he should sit tight. The Germans were obviously going somewhere fast, not prowling around looking for a fight. The echoes picked up by the sonar became louder as the subs approach- ed in a senii-circle on the starboard bow, five ' cigar tubes ' manned by men who happened to have been brainwashed by a very nationalistically-minded leader. Captain Sargeant stared unseeing at the sea foaming over the fo ' c ' s ' le as Okanagan responded to the change in course at an angle away from the path of the U-boats. His knuckles showed white against his swarthy skin, his nails bit into his palms. In his breast pocket lay a sheet of paper containing strict instructions to maintain radio silence at all costs. And so he had to stand by and let five enemy subs proceed unharried. With radar scanning the horizon, sonar probing the depths, and binoculars trained on all quadrants of the sea. Captain Sargeant gave the order to stop engines. Officers and men alike held their breath as the enemy passed within two miles of the silent ship. Five hours later, kicking her heels behind her, H.M.C.S. Okanagan ploughed between two Unes of ships steaming slowly from horizon to horizon. With a great flourish she made a wide 90 degree turn and swept up alongside H.M.S. Duke of Cornwall, her bow wave frothing behind her to break solidly against the flagship ' s hull. Damned show- off, muttered Admiral Cartwright as he acknowledged her arrival. In charge of this vital assortment of ships, he was irritated by the tardiness of his escort and wasted no words in telling her so. Without waiting for an explanation, Cart- wright ordered Okanagan to take up position on the stem port quarter of the convoy. Captain Sargeant was a little taken aback by his reception, but leaving the matter at that, he ordered his ship to her assigned place. As part of standard practice, the Captain acquainted himself with the ships directly under his wing. The convoy was small and consisted of ships of above average speed, but still it seemed to crawl tantalizingly slowly towards Great Britain. Captain Sargeant found himself studying a small, powerful-looking vessel, obviously very new to the game. She was British, carrying tanks and ammunition to replen- ish the diminishing supphes on the war front. Heaven help 28

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DONALD HOUSE Front row: Alexandra ( ruca, Joanne Ward, Janet Martin, Cora Sire, Susan Astle, Claire Panet-Rayinond. 2nd: Joan Marshall, Janet Blane, Beverly Morgan, Sue Ciuitle (House Head), Cathy Cash (House Head), Sally Moore (Form V Rep.), Elizabeth Williams, Karen Kendall, Maria Bronfman. 3rd: Kathy Drummond, Patsy (ilasslord, Monique Holloway, Brenda Kaine, Joanne Neale, Susan Fulton, Lesley Harris, Anne Martin. Back row: Nina (jiupta, Lucille Dorkin, Kathy Cantle, Julia Morgan, Joanne Bird, Michele Kirkwood, Linda Spinner, Pip Coupland. Absent: Mrs. Moore (House Mistress), Leslie Martin, Joanne Guthrie, Cyrile Ozkohen, Ann Chabassol, Susan Renaud. EN VERS Comment en vers peut-on exprimer Les vraies reflexions de Tcsprit, Les vraies emotions de Fame, Les vrais sentiments du corps? Par la conscience du cerveau Quelle connaissance coule Qu ' bn puisse ecrire sur le papier? Aucune! Et les sentiments d ' amour et de chagrin Exprimes en poesie, etre lus, analyses. La vue de la beaute — est-ce qu ' on peut Le parfum d ine fleur, L air d ' une chanson. La tendresse du velours, La douceur du miel et la chaleur du soleil — Est-ce possible de scntir tout cela avec des mots? Quelque longs que soient les details et les descriptions, Les vraies pensees, emotions, et sentiments Restent caches dans la profondeur de Fetre Et personne ne peut les connaitre, Jamais. Elizabeth Williams Form VI B Fevaluer sur [)apier? 30