I don’t know about you, but I need something a little lighter after writing about some heavy topics lately (the last few weeks have been unusually challenging at work). So, I wracked my brain and remembered an amusing story from the Cunard Line’s Commodore Harry Grattidge. I chuckled as I re-read the passage in his autobiography and knew that I had to write about it.
But first, a little backstory on the MV Georgic.
The Last of the White Star Line
MV Georgic was launched on November 12, 1931 at the Harland & Wolff shipyard in Belfast. Like her sister ship, MV Britannic (1929), she was powered by diesel instead of steam. At 27,759 GRT and 711 feet long, she was the largest British motor ship ever built. Georgic was also the last ship ever built for the famed White Star Line. The company later merged with the Cunard Line in 1934 at the behest of the British government.
The new Cunard-White Star Line continued operating Britannic and Georgic. With the exception of SS Laurentic (1927), every other White Star Line ship (including the famous RMS Olympic and RMS Majestic) was sold off by 1936. These three ships kept their original White Star livery and house flag, but now flew the Cunard house flag in addition.
Due to their lower operating costs, both Britannic and Georgic were profitable throughout the 1930s. The same couldn’t be said for many other ships at the time. The two motor ships continued their regular service between London and New York until Britannic was requestioned as a troopship on August 27, 1939. Then Great Britain declared war on Nazi Germany on September 3.
Interestingly, MV Georgic continued her civilian service until she too was requestioned on March 11, 1940.
The Georgic Goes to War
Now converted into a troopship, HMT Georgic primarily sailed between Great Britain and the Middle East (though there were trips to New York and Canada as well). It’s estimated that the ship transported about 25,000 British and Commonwealth troops between May 1940 and July 1941. Her role in the Allied war effort cannot be understated.
On July 14, 1941, the Georgic was docked in Port Tewfik, Egypt when the Luftwaffe attacked. The German aircraft dropped bombs on the ship, which caused extensive damage and started a serious fire which ignited fuel and ammunition. Although the Georgic’s stern was an inferno, Captain A.G. Greig was able to start the engines and ground the ship on a nearby reef: the busy port would’ve been blocked if he hadn’t done so. Remarkably, no one was killed in the attack, and everyone aboard made it off safely.
The Georgic burned for two days after the attack. Although twisted, blackened, and gutted by the fire, the ship was deemed salvageable. The ship was refloated, and what followed was three years of extensive rebuilding and refurbishment. Georgic was completely rebuilt into a dedicated troopship and re-entered service in December 1944. But she was drastically changed: Georgic’s superstructure had to be completely rebuilt, and her forward funnel removed. Both of her masts were also shortened. While Georgic survived the Port Tewfik attack, her graceful profile was forever altered.
HMT Georgic operated between Italy, the Middle East, and India until World War II ended the following year. Then, between 1945 and 1948, the ship repatriated troops, prisoners, and civilians. It was during one of these voyages in early July 1945 that the Georgic, commanded by then-Captain Harry Grattidge, became a royal pain while sailing off the Welsh coast.
An Ear-Splitting Encounter
In his autobiography, Commodore Grattidge recalled what happened:
Yes, she was a good ship, the Georgic, sturdy and reliable, with a whistle that cut the air like a razor if you needed it. It was…making for Liverpool, that I ran into fog off Anglesey, but not until the small hours of the morning did the officer of the watch send word that a vessel grouped around by smaller vessels had been plotted close ahead on the radar screen. So I ran topside to the bridge, reducing speed and altering course, blowing our whistle but getting no reply.
Without any response from the unknown vessel, Captain Grattidge grew understandably irritated. Fog was incredibly dangerous: more than a few ships had collided with each other and were sunk in such conditions. Such accidents were often deadly too.
The Commodore continues:
Suddenly, at 2:30 A.M., the craft I had sought loomed out of the fog, close to our bow, silent as a ghost ship but with all her deck lights burning. By heaven, I thought, I’ll teach them not to use their whistle when there’s fog around, and for two unbroken minutes I made the night hideous with the ear-splitting scream of the Georgic’s whistle.
That might’ve been the end of the matter. However, Commodore Grattidge continues the story:
Next morning, in Liverpool, Cunard’s shore staff came aboard to ask searching questions. Had I run into anything unusual during the night? I gave the facts, but ended triumphantly: “If they threw a scare on me, I certainly threw a worse one on them. I blew the whistle so loudly that everyone asleep on that ship must have jumped clean from their bunks.
They seemed to know all about that. “The ship,” explained one of them kindly, “was H.M.S. Dido. They were relying on radar, not blowing their whistle, so as to give their passengers a good night’s rest.”
Passengers on a destroyer? I said I could scarcely credit it. But no one had warned me, after all, that King George VI and Queen Elizabeth were crossing on an official visit to the Isle of Man.
Commodore Grattidge then wrote that his entire life had been full of mistakes like this one.
A Quick Note
Commodore Grattidge states in his autobiography that this event occurred in August 1947. However, King George VI and Queen Elizabeth’s visit to the Isle of Man took place July 4-6, 1945. This is likely an honest error, as memories frequently become distorted over time. It seems likely to me that Commodore Grattidge was misremembering the HMS Dido incident in an all-too-human way.
References
- Grattidge, Captain Harry. Captain of the Queens: The Autobiography of Captain Harry Grattidge, Former Commodore of the Cunard Line as told to Richard Collier. New York: E.P. Dutton & Co., Inc., 1956.
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