One Common Enemy by Jim McLoughlin

Author:Jim McLoughlin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: book, BT, BIO008000
ISBN: 9781743051801
Publisher: Wakefield Press
Published: 2012-09-27T04:00:00+00:00

8 – Ruthless measures

Deep inside I was raging as Britannic disappeared. The Germans had a strategy of keeping U-boats near where they’d sunk a ship, hoping to torpedo any rescue vessels. If by some slim chance Britannic had seen us and stopped, she would have been a sitting duck. It was dreadful seeing possible rescue slip away from us like that. An overwhelming sense of desolation engulfed us and I think this had a profound effect on some of those who were barely hanging on. No one spoke for the rest of the day.

Perhaps a day or two after we saw that ship, Mary the Scotswoman faded away from us. She was such a lovely person, a kind and very gracious lady of about 40. She lay slumped across the lap of Doris, who cradled her head like a child’s, gently stroking her hair. My God, that was sad. She’d been an uncomplaining stalwart, sitting amidships quietly day after day with Doris. They never left each other’s side, drawing strength from one another in their terribly difficult situation as the only women on board. Mary always spoke with the utmost courtesy to everyone around her. But she had clearly given up and was wordlessly slipping away. Then, the next morning, Doris couldn’t wake her and announced that she was dead. Doctor Purslow conducted a little service for her. He led us in prayer and we tried to sing a hymn, but our voices just petered out with sadness and exhaustion. After that, she was lowered into the Atlantic.

Dreadfully alone without Mary, Doris moved to the bow of the boat where I was ensconced with a couple of other navy blokes and a young chap from the RAF. She became a mother figure to us in the bow, watching over us, I suppose because she was a nurse and had a natural instinct for caring for others. I started to call her Freckles because the relentless sun had brought her round face out in a wild rash of browny-red freckles. I guess I was a bit impertinent to do that, but she didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. She always called me McLoughlin, never James or Jim or Mac.

Doris confided in me that she was terribly worried about Geoffrey Purslow. He was an extraordinary man. I can only guess how old he was, but I’d say about 30. Older than me, of course, but quite a bit younger than many of the others. A slight man with very pale skin, he had the quiet, confident air of the medical professional about him. As Laconia’s surgeon he would have had a big responsibility for such a relatively young man. That pressure must have been greater in the lifeboat, because he had nothing with which to help us, except his own humanity and compassion. He was the only one who constantly moved about the boat, going from person to person, encouraging us. He used his tiny pen knife to burst blisters, lance ulcers and release the painful pressure in septic toes and fingers.

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