Honouring the Men who gave their lives whilst serving in the Merchant Navy
and whose names are on the Australian War Memorial Commemorative Roll
and whose names are on the Australian War Memorial Commemorative Roll
M.V. CLEA
WW2
WW2
M.V. Clea was sunk on 13 February 1941 by a torpedo fired by German submarine U-96
There were no survivors
There were no survivors
Pingelly-Brookton Leader (W.A.) 13-2-1941
Narrogin Boy Torpedoed.
The following letter from Robert Clunas, son of Mr. and Mrs. J. Chlunas, and born In Narrogin, will be of interest.
Bob is wireless operator and writes of his experiences on a ship that was torpedoed:--
I wrote a letter about a fortnight ago but was told unofficially that it had been destroyed. It was posted with letters from a naval escort vessel and one of the officers dropped
me a card to say so, but didn't say when, or where or how. So here is another to replace it.
You may have had a cable before this to say that I am safe. My last ship was the one on which I went to Vancouver—I must not mention its name or it will be censored. We were on our way back from Vancouver and were two days out of our home port when we were torpedoed. I can't give you as vivid a description as I might have done several
weeks ago, but I'll do my best. At 7.30 p.m., October 8th, I had just finished playing cards and was due on watch at 8 p.m. I was lying down reading when there was a terrific bang. Everything rattled and the
door was torn off its hook. There was a lot of dust and a smell of explosives. I thought we had been bombed at first and got up and put on my life-jacket. I went to find the Captain. He was just coming off the
bridge and was pretty badly cut by glass. He was a bit shaken hut calm enough. He told me he thought it was a bomb and I went into the wireless cabin to get out a message. The main power was still on and I got a call out. I waited for an answer but none came. My junior was standing by and I saw to it that he had his life jacket on. Not getting any answer I started another call but 'the power failed and the lights went out. I got the emergency set working but before I finished sending the call we were hit again. We knew by now that it was torpedoes and not bombs. Anyway the second explosion shook us a hit and put my emergency transmitter out of action. The receiver was still going though. This was only seven minutes after the first explosion so you can see we did not waste much time. I reckon my first call was out within two minutes. After the set failed I sent my junior off to his boat and then gathered my secret papers and destroyed them. I went out on deck then to see what was going on. I found both boats were lowered and there was a lot of shouting going on. The captain was on the lower bridge and I went to him to report. We then found the first mate and tried to get a boat. But they had been cast off and were drifting away. We shouted but they couldn't, or wouldn't hear us. The Chief Engineer, Steward and one of the apprentices had been left behind, too, so we got together and tried to lower the captain's dinghy which was not a life boat but which we "thought was better than nothing. We had a bit of difficulty as the ropes were tangled and the boat was heavy. However we managed to get it swung out and the apprentice jumped in to find it off the ship's side. A sea broke over us though and lifted one end of the boat of the falls. The boy was spilled out into the water but he scrambled over some floating timber and reached a raft which had broken adrift. The last I saw of him he was drifting away into the darkness alone. The boat was smashed and so the five of us, Captain, Male, Chief Engineer, Steward and myself were left aboard with no means of getting off.
We had a look, round and didn't like the look of things. The seas were breaking across the fore deck and cargo was being washed out of one of the holds. The bows were under water and the stern was well out.
There was also a slight list to port. We could not do anything much now, but the ship did not appear to be going down very fast. Our hopes rose and we decided she would perhaps last till daylight. The Mate was
in a pretty bad way now. He had been cut by glass about the face and had also been knocked out by a heavy block, which cut his head pretty badly. We managed to bandage him up and laid him down on the captain's settee. The rest of us sat in the wireless room and listened to some dance music. It was about 11 p.m. I raked out my cigarettes and distributed them. I had plenty, luckily.
The steward and I went below after a while. The pantry was about 2ft. deep in water but we got some condensed milk and biscuits and took them up. They were welcome. We all had time to think now. I don't
know about the others but I certainly prayed as I have never done before. I felt pretty scared but I was more scared of showing it. We talked and gossiped a bit and I tried to fix the transmitter but it was hopeless.
About one o'clock in the morning the water began to come in so we decided to move further aft. The Mate could not be moved, and we had to leave him. We had a bit of a job getting across the deck in the dark but eventually got settled in a room on the boat deck. We were pretty cold but not too badly off, really. It was a long wait for dawn. The ship was settling down very slowly. It says something for British ship builders, because she had stopped two torpedoes, one in No. T hold and one in the stockhold. The dawn broke at last, but all it revealed was sea and clouds —there was plenty of them but nothing else except ourselves. We inspected the ship and found her further down by the head and the list had increased. Cargo was drifting away in a steady stream and seas were breaking on the bridge. The Mate appeared on the bridge and seemed to have recovered slightly, so we got him aft with us. We decided to make some rafts and got two nearly finished when we sighted a flying boat. He flew right past, about three miles away and took no notice of us. You can imagine our feelings. He had just disappeared when I spotted another one headed straight for us. Boy! was he a welcome sight. He circled round us several times and signalled us that he would send help. He went off then. This was about 9.30 a.m. We settled down to wait again, but with lighter hearts this time. About eleven o'clock a ship appeared and then several more.
They turned out to be an outward bound convoy. The escort approached us and came right alongside. We had to jump from our stern down on to his deck—about 15 feet. I hurt my feet when I landed but it turned
out they were only bruised. I said "Thank God' and I really meant it. We left the ship about 12 noon—after 16 hours on a sinking ship. The weather was bad and the sea was pretty rough.
The escort stood by and our ship sunk about three hours later. She suddenly kicked up her stern and nose dived. We would not have had much warning, as she went pretty quickly at the last.
The officers of the rescue vessel treated us royally and we were landed on October 16th. I reported to Glasgow, got sick leave, spent a week at Weston and then came on here to Aunty Ethel's. Things are quiet here and I am doing fine. At times I really thought I was a gonner—perhaps you know the feeling too. Not exactly scared but wondering what it would be like.
I have had your letters and will answer them later. Guess Mum is better now or I would have heard.