Occasional Paper 176: A Ship is Burning

By Ken Wright

As the attractive blonde seventeen-year-old rode her push bike to work on the cold morning of 22 July 1942, the Japanese submarine I-11 had already torpedoed the American Liberty Ship, SS William Dawes approximately fifteen miles off the Australian east coast township of Merimbula.

Lorna Stafford was a member of the little-known Volunteer Air Observers Corps which was established by the Royal Australian Air Force Directorate of Intelligence in the last few months of 1941. The VAOC’s work was the sighting and reporting of enemy aircraft over Australian territory as well as coastal surveillance. Observation posts were established and manned by volunteer observers under the control of a Chief Observer and linked to control posts under a civilian Commandant. The control posts such as that where Lorna had arrived to begin her daytime shift used existing Civil Defence and Volunteer Defence Force facilities wherever possible. Any relevant information was reported directly to the main control posts in each state capital city.

Communications were carried by an ‘Airflash’ priority system Lorna Stafford through the normal telephone system backed up by B3 radios between control and main centres. Using this method which overrode the normal telephone lines, allowed information to be transmitted to a main control post in one or two minutes. All volunteers were to be of Australian/British nationality, of good character and have passed the basic hearing and eyesight test. All went through a stringent aircraft recognition training course and where possible, members were recruited locally. Lorna Stafford lived close to the small fishing town of Tathra on the New South Wales coast where the observation post in a small wooden hut had been established because of its commanding view up and down the coast. It was freezing in the winter and hot in the summer and was only equipped with the mandatory log and code books, telephone, clock, and binoculars.

Lorna normally began her official daytime shift at nine am [9 am-1 pm] but had arrived early this morning and was shown a report from the night shift observer that at approximately five-thirty am that morning, a loud explosion was heard out to sea down towards Merimbula. Little did the teenager realise she was about to become a part of Australian military history generally unknown today outside the local area.

In mid-July 1942, three type A1 Japanese long-range fleet submarines arrived off the east coast of Australia from the shipyards in Kure, with orders to attack all merchant shipping. The largest boat was the 2900-ton 1-11 commanded by Commander Tsuneo Shichiji. The 1-11 was also the flagship of Rear Admiral Kono Chimaki’s 3^rd Submarine Squadron. The type A1 was developed from the type J3 design with a hanger opening forward from the conning tower. This was for access to a forward-mounted catapult which allowed advantage to be taken of the forward movement of the boat to launch a ‘Glen’ float plane.

The 1-11 and the two other boats, 1-9 and 1-10 were all equipped with communications equipment that enabled them to operate as command ships for groups of submarines. For the time, they were massive boats with a crew of one hundred and fourteen officers and men. As the war progressed, the 1-9 was sunk by the American destroyer USS Frazier in the Aleutians on 11 June 1943 and the 1-10 was lost to the destroyers USS David. Taylor and USS Riddle east of Saipan on 4 July 1944. All three submarines operated along the east coast of Australia from July to the beginning of August 1942 and official Japanese records credit the three submarines with sinking ten Allied merchant ships. In fact, only three were sunk, all by the 1-11.

Commander Tsuneo Shichiji began his war in the 1-11 with the night sinking of the Greek ship, George.S. Livanos [4835 tons] approximately fifteen miles off Jervis Bay on the 20 July. Fortunately, there were no casualties. Three hours later in almost the same area, the 1-11 torpedoed and sank the American vessel, Coast Farmer [3290 tons]. After the attack, the 1-11 surfaced to examine the sinking ship by searchlight and submerged a short time later. The crew were not harmed in any way, but one crew member had been killed in the attack. Twenty-seven hours later, in the early morning darkness, the 1-11 attacked the 5576-ton American Liberty Ship, SS William Dawes. The Japanese Commander’s tactics were to attack ships at night, preferring surface attacks using a combination of torpedoes and a 140mm deck gun. The Commander of the 1-11 most likely knew nothing about the Liberty ship he had just torpedoed but history will remember these ships and their great contribution to the allies’ ability to win World War Two in the Pacific and European theatres.

They were expendable, the press called them, ‘Ugly Ducklings’ but they were the workhorses of World War II and most of the mariners who sailed in them from 1942-1945 loved them. They were simple prefabricated square-hulled vessels put together in a very short space of time. For example, the William Dawes keel was laid on 26 October 1941 and completed three months and twelve days later and this was still in a period of learning and experimentation in shipbuilding. The all-time record from keel laying to completion of a ship was under five days. A tribute to American know-how and production line construction. The US Navy expected the shipping casualties to be so great that just one completed voyage per ship was considered a success. Their life span was estimated to be only five years, but they continued to be in use around the world many years after the war was over. SS William Dawes was named after the revolutionary patriot minuteman who rode with Paul Revere and Samuel Prescott during the American War of Independence. She was launched from the Oregon Shipbuilding Corporation, Portland on 7 February 1942 as a United States Army Transport.

The William Dawes had left the South Australian city of Adelaide on 19th July bound for Brisbane, Queensland’s capital city with a complement of thirty-nine Merchant crew, fifteen Naval Armed Guard and cargo according to the Australian War Memorial records of eighty-two quarter ton jeeps, thirty-three half ton CPR’s, seventy-two half-ton pickups, two one and a half ton cargo trucks, twelve two and a half ton cargo trucks, twelve ambulances, twelve half-track vehicles and with explosives and other sundry Army stores, the total service cargo was approximately 7177 tons. Three soldiers, a Lieutenant and two enlisted men, were also on board as the cargo was the equipment and stores of the United States Army 32nd Infantry Division [Michigan and Wisconsin National Guard] that had arrived in Adelaide on the 14 May from San Francisco. They had been training at a military camp outside the city but early in July 1942 were ordered to transfer all personnel and equipment to Camp Tamborine near Brisbane. Most of the personnel were sent to their new camp by train but some were dispatched on five ships. The William Dawes was not part of this convoy of ships, but travelled alone, unescorted, and was approximately midway between the New South Wales coastal towns of Merimbula and Tathra when the torpedo struck.

Signalman William. C. Minton, one of the survivors recalls his experience; ‘We were destined for New Caledonia. We didn’t know if we were to discharge our cargo or standby for routing elsewhere. The word was there had been no submarine activity as far south as Sydney and we were to pick up an escorted convoy at Sydney. Sometime during the night of July 21 or in the morning of the 22, a message was received informing us that there was submarine activity along our route and for us to turn back and put into Twofold Bay near Eden another NSW coastal town. There were no navigational beacons at the entrance to the bay, so Captain Froberg opted to circle offshore until daylight. Thinking that the sub-activity we had been warned about was far to our north, he ordered reduced speed which made us sitting ducks.’

‘My duties as a signalman entailed my being on watch on the bridge during daylight hours. I was off duty and asleep in my bunk in the after-deckhouse when the first torpedo struck. My first recollection is of standing up in a pitch-dark compartment. The electrical connections had been severed and since the sea had been somewhat rough, the porthole on the starboard side had been closed. I remember the other sailor who shared the compartment pounding my back and yelling, ‘Get me out of here’ Going to the corner where we kept our life jackets, I found something that felt, in the dark, like a lifejacket, gave it to him and shoved him through the door to the passageway. I looked around the corner for another life jacket but couldn’t find any. I found out later that I had given him a mattress instead of a life jacket. The compartment was in shambles with our lockers lying on the deck apparently torn from the bulkhead. Nothing was in its place. I felt for a battle lantern that was supposed to be in a bracket on the bulkhead, but it was gone. As I went into the passageway, I noticed that the deck was sloping quite sharply. I went into the hatch to the outside and it had been dogged [bolted] down for the same reason that the porthole had been closed. Surprised that there was no one at the door, I started to try and open it. Apparently, it was sprung because the dogs were not coming free. I could hear the water coming in the portside of the ship and I knew that opening that hatch was a matter of life or death. It’s a weird experience knowing the Grim Reaper was at my heels. Fortunately, another shipmate came to my side and the two of us managed to free the hatch and go out on deck.’

‘The whole aft section of the ship was connected to the rest of the hull by one deck plate and was listing badly but the main deck was still level. Once out of the inky blackness, I could see it was George Avant who had helped me with the hatch, not the guy who had been in the compartment with me. We hurried onto the main part of the ship just as the remaining deck plate was giving way. I immediately went to my battle station which was on the flying bridge but there was no one else there. At least I was able to pick up an abandoned lifejacket.  Looking down to the boat deck, I saw there was only one lifeboat still there but didn’t see anyone around. I realised then that the abandon ship order had been given so I quickly went down to the remaining lifeboat arriving at the same time as George Avant. As the number of hands normally assigned to lower a boat was seven, George and I decided we had better get at it. We had lowered the boat to just above the waterline when another crewman showed up. Since the sea was a bit rough, I turned the fall over to him and went down Jacob’s ladder to fend the boat off and prevent damage from it slamming into the main hull. Soon others appeared including Captain Forbear, who sent a deckhand on a quick tour of the ship to make sure no one was left on board.’

On shore, a 17-year-old teenager, Chappie Munn was delivering milk around Merimbula and heard the explosion at around 5-30 am he estimated the distance to the source of the noise to be about twelve to fifteen miles off the coast in the regular shipping lane.

The captain had ordered the lifeboats lowered and the ship abandoned but instructed the boats to pull away from the ship and stand by until daybreak to see if the ship could be saved. Sometime later, a second torpedo struck the ship’s amidships, setting the ship on fire which started a series of explosions. Just after the fires had started, the crew were horrified to see the giant 1-11 surface about 1500 yards from the burning ship and lifeboats just before sunrise, presumably to observe or record their handiwork, and then submerged a short time later without interfering with the crew in the lifeboats. William Minton saw the submarine surface and remembered being extremely worried as he had heard of submarines ramming or machine-gunning lifeboats. Realising the ship was unsalvageable; the captain ordered the four lifeboats [one motorised] to head towards the nearest land, about twelve miles away. They had gone some distance when a rescue trawler from Merimbula arrived. The survivors were collected together, and the four lifeboats were towed back to Merimbula.

The local police constable on board the trawler compiled a list of the dead and wounded. One Army serviceman plus four Naval Armed Guard were killed and four wounded badly. The dead soldier, twenty-five-year-old Corporal Geraldo Cable, Service Company, 126 Infantry had the dubious distinction of being the first 32nd Infantry Division serviceman to be killed in action while serving with the William Dawes gun crew. Shortly afterwards, Camp Tamborine outside Brisbane was renamed Camp Cable in his honour by his fellow soldiers. The 32nd were the first Americans to meet the Japanese in New Guinea and the account of both the American and Australian troops’ incredible feats during the bloody Buna campaign early in the war in New Guinea has become a classic military study in mountain and jungle warfare.

Lorna was unaware a submarine attack had taken place but from her vantage point in the Tathra observation post, and with the aid of her binoculars, she could see the ship constantly changing course. With the steering gone, the ship was at the mercy of the ocean currents. While the drama at sea was unfolding, Lorna was reporting her observations to the major VAOC HQ at Moruya and making rough time frame sketches of each event as it happened. Lorna’s efficient and speedy reports to her control station in Moruya had enabled the fishing trawler to be quickly dispatched to the scene to rescue any survivors. Another trawler was sent from the nearby fishing town of Eden as a standby. A fishing boat was also sent out from Tathra and the local people, now aware of the tragedy that had taken place out at sea, gathered to get food ready for the expected arrival of any survivors. They were bitterly disappointed when they heard the rescued crew had gone to Merimbula instead. The Japanese submarine had long since gone when a Royal Australian Air Force aircraft arrived on the scene just after sunrise.

The RAAF Operations logbook records the flight crew reported seeing twelve to fifteen persons in each of the four lifeboats and that the vessel was on fire and several service trucks and jeeps on deck were also burning. The crew investigating the devastated ship also reported sighting a submarine at 10-15 am, three miles south of the stricken vessel moving southeast. The aircraft attacked the “submarine” with bombs. What the aircraft attacked could have been Shichiji’s submarine as his course did take him south, or a whale mistaken for a submarine, but official Japanese records show no attack on the 1-11 took place. The burning wreck of the William Dawes finally sank stern first around about four thirty pm the same day.

Signalman Minton. ‘Once we got to the dock, I found I couldn’t walk and discovered I had a hole through my thigh. I had experienced some discomfort earlier. It felt like someone had hit me with a baseball bat, but I thought I had only been bruised. Didn’t look closely with all the excitement going on nor would I have given a plugged nickel for my chances of surviving at the time. Ross Cole and I were loaded onto a flatbed truck which served as a makeshift ambulance and were taken to the hospital at Pambula.

Three others were, I believe, transported by automobile. I don’t remember much about my first night in hospital. I do remember being taken to surgery to have my wound probed then I was administered ether and when I awoke, I was as sick as a dog, but I had been patched up and I was looked after by Dr Patterson, a real nice lady.’

Most of the remaining crew were gladly accommodated in the homes of the local townspeople until the military authorities could make further arrangements for their future.

‘The next day was a very nice day. The first afternoon visiting hours had the hospital filled with well-wishers. A nice lady had baked a cream cake and decorated it with the words, ‘Good luck to the Yanks.’ ‘A very nice elderly gentleman passed out cash, as I remember it was a five-pound note for each of us. I don’t remember his name even though I was later a dinner guest at his home, but I will always remember his face and that of his very lovely wife. The owner of a movie house wrote a pass for any movie we wished to attend. Mr Edwards who owned the bus line from Eden to Bega told us there would be no charge for us to ride. I eventually took advantage of both their offers when I became ambulatory. I was at the hospital for six weeks. All the others had left after two weeks so I was on my own for nearly a month. I can think of no way a stay in a hospital could be more pleasant although the food at the hospital upheld the reputation of hospital food worldwide. I only needed to eat breakfast in the hospital after I could get around. I had lunch and dinner invitations every day. I still had some change left from that five-pound note when I was discharged. I eventually went to Sydney to report back to for duty. The reception I got wasn’t exactly what I expected. Because I was wearing civilian clothes, they thought I had been ‘Away without leave.’

‘As an aside, I might mention that because of the rapid build-up of the Merchant fleet after our entry into the war, there was a shortage of ships officers. Our third mate was a retread who had been called out of retirement. He was eighty years old, had started his sea-going career in sailing ships and was well-versed, and a firm believer, in the superstitions of the sea. One of the soldiers on board had just the day before, shot an albatross. Then that night we turned back on our course, both according to the third mate, were sure to bring disaster. After what had happened, who could argue with him? The kindness and hospitality of the people of Pambula and Merimbula made a lasting impression on us.’

Signalman William Minton returned to the States, married his lady friend, Rosemary, had only a week’s leave due to the acute shortage of men and returned to duty and to the sea war in the Atlantic, North Atlantic, North Sea and the Mediterranean. After he retired, Mr. and Mrs Minton returned to Merimbula in 1990 to renew old friendships. ‘To this day, I have nothing but kind thoughts for them and all Australians.’

Commander Shichiji continued his patrol further down the Australian coast where he again used his night surface attack tactics and fired one torpedo at an Australian vessel, Coolana [2197 tons] The Japanese thought they had hit the ship but as the vessel showed no sign of sinking, Shichiji ordered the use of the deck gun. In the rough seas, it was difficult to aim and when the Australian vessel began to send an SOS signal, it was time to leave the scene or in modern terms, to ‘bug’ out. Fortunately, there was no damage to the crew or ship. Two days later the 29 July, the giant 1-11 almost became a victim herself.

Due to the recent submarine attacks, the Royal Australian Air Force stepped up patrolling in the area around Cape Howe, using twin-engine Bristol Beauforts of 100 Squadron. Flying Officer Doug Avery and a three-man crew in Beaufort A9-42 of 100 Squadron had only been airborne for ninety minutes when at 4-50 am the crew sighted a submarine travelling on the surface at about six or seven knots. It was the 1-11, all 2900 tons of her and now alert to the approach of a hostile aircraft was trying to get out of harm’s way. Flying Officer Avery using the conning tower as a guide as the submarine submerged, released the six bombs in a stick with the detonator set for a one-second delay. As he pulled out of the dive, the Beaufort was shaken violently by the concussions of the exploding bombs and struck by fragments of shrapnel. One piece of metal tore an eight-inch hole in the starboard wing. Another left a smaller hole in the tail. One bomb seemed to have hit the target. After circling the area for ten minutes, the crew observed a thick patch of oil about ninety feet [30 metres] in diameter. On the visual evidence, the crew were convinced they had sunk the submarine.

It was a very close call for the Japanese as it was the first time the 1-11’s crew had been on the receiving end of a bombing attack, and it shook them up rather badly. The only damage to the submarine was some cracking to the wooden decking and a few embedded bomb fragments in the deck. If Flying Officer Avery’s attack had been successful, the Imperial Japanese Navy would have lost not only one of her largest submarines but also a crew, a rear admiral, and half a dozen members of the headquarters staff of the 3^rd Submarine Squadron.

The 1-11 began her next war patrol during the first week of August in a new theatre of operations, this time in the Pacific. Over the next 2 months, there were only two events worthy of note during this phase of her operations. On 6 September 1942, the submarine managed to slip past a screen of escort ships off Espiritu Santo and fired a spread of torpedoes at the famous aircraft carrier USS Hornet. However, a circling aircraft spotted the torpedoes and dropped its bombs disrupting the torpedo’s direction. All missed the carrier. The USS Hornet had, back in April, launched the famous ‘Doolittle Raid’ where sixteen B25s attacked Tokyo, Nagoya, and Kobe in a most daring raid. Although the 1-11 failed to sink her, the carrier would fall victim to the Japanese the following month in the battle of Santa Cruz Islands, one year and six days after she was commissioned. The next day, the 1-11 was attacked by a PBY Catalina from the ‘Black Cats’ squadron and may have suffered some damage as she returned to Kure for repairs on the 22 September. Early January 1943, a repaired, provisioned, and ready for action 1-11 returned to active duty back in the Pacific but the earlier successes of 1942 eluded her. On 20 July 1943 off San Cristobal, New Hebrides in the Solomons, the 1-11 fired two torpedoes at the Australian light cruiser, HMAS Hobart. One torpedo hit, killing fifteen crewmen and wounding seven others but the Hobart managed to limp into Espiritu Santo and carry out temporary repairs.

On 11 August, the 1-11 torpedoed and damaged the 7,176-ton American Liberty ship, Mathew Lyon off Noumea, New Caledonia. With nothing much to show for almost nine months of operations at sea, the 1-11 returned to the Kure shipyards for repairs. Three months later, the giant 1-11 and her crew lay on the bottom of the ocean, listed officially as an operational loss off Ellice Island. Some historians suggest she hit a mine, but the cause of her demise has yet to be historically proven.

The Japanese were never able to seriously disrupt the flow of war materials and other essential goods between America and Australia as they lacked the resources, materials, skills, and proper direction.

If the Imperial Japanese Navy High Command had adopted the German High Command’s priority of sinking merchant ships, the disruption of cargo between America and Australia might have influenced the ability of the Allies to conduct the war. Certainly, it would have made it much more difficult to keep the supply lines open. Add the fact that Japan sent more than twenty-four submarines to operate in Australian waters during 1942-44, and of the forty-nine merchant vessels attacked, only twenty-four were sunk. A total of 117, 000 tons. Compare the Japanese total tonnage sunk to one particular German U-boat commanded by Fregattenkapitan Otto Kretschmer in the European theatre of operations. The U-99managed to sink thirty-nine ships, and damage five, a total of approximately 260,000 tons in just eighteen months. The overall Japanese submarine warfare campaign was not at all impressive.

What was impressive was the contribution of the volunteers of the Air Observers Corps who, in the overall picture of Australia’s military involvement in World War Two, have been all but forgotten. The VAOC peaked in manpower at 24,000 members in 1944 manning 2,656 observation posts and thirty-nine control posts. Between January 1943 and August 1945, the organization had ‘definitely’ saved seventy-eight aircraft, ‘substantially’ aided seven hundred and ten and ‘assisted’ a further thousand. Assistance given ranged from supplying tea and biscuits to downed airmen to advising their bases of their whereabouts and guarding aircraft. When one adds up the ship spotting and naval cooperation tasks, the corps has an honourable record. They were officially disbanded on 10 April 1946.

Lorna married, became Mrs. Waterston, and lived in Kalaru near Tathra. To honour her contribution to the war effort and her part in the events of 22 July 1942, a small memorial plaque was placed in Tathra’s memorial park by the local Lions Club. A fitting tribute not just to one single VAOC volunteer but to them all and to those brave men who lost their lives in SS William Dawes.

The Australian Government also paid tribute to the men who lost their lives on the William Dawes sixty-two years later. An Australian diving expedition called the Sydney Project Diving Team had been planning for over six months a dive on the William Dawes. The wreck’s location was established ten miles from where she was torpedoed and twelve miles from the coastal town of Bermagui.

On 25 October 2004, two divers not only found the wreck upside down in one hundred and thirty-five metres of water but broke the existing New South Wales diving record at the same time.

Because the wreck has remained untouched since its sinking, it is a virtual time capsule, rich in historical importance. The Australian Government declared the site to be a ‘’historical shipwreck’ which will enable divers to visit the ship but not to remove or disturb relics without a permit. An official government communiqué stated, ‘The William Dawes deserves our protection as it may be a war grave of the five lost crew.’

As luck or fate would have it, the people of Merimbula seventy years after the sinking of the William Dawes, were given the opportunity to extend their hand of friendship once again to Bill Minton but under completely different circumstances. In early 2011, Bill, [who would turn 89 in December that year] mentioned to one of his Australian contacts that if the good Lord was willing, he, accompanied by several members of his family and a family friend, the Reverend Dale Dutter, planned to come to Merimbula in July 2012 and lay a wreath over the William Dawes stern wreck site in honour of his lost shipmates. It was a deeply felt gesture he needed to do while he was still able.

As it happened, between Saturday 24 March and Sunday 8 April the year Bill was hoping to visit, the town of Merimbula was planning its one-hundred-year centenary celebrations and the planning committee took the rare opportunity to re-live a wartime connection by asking Bill if he, and his party, would consider being part of the celebrations and come in March instead of July. After much deliberation, Bill agreed as the whole purpose of his trip was to lay the wreath, the timing was unimportant. Bill would love to have met Lorna Waterson, the lady whose quick action initiated the rescue of the crew but sadly, it was not to be as Lorna passed away in 2009 after a long illness.

The William Dawes is an integral part of the history of Merimbula with the local historical museum displaying the events of World War Two and the Returned Services League [RSL] Merimbula subbranch extending and naming their dining room the ‘William Dawes Room’ in honour of those who lost their lives in 1942. With great satisfaction, the RSL planned a paying guest evening dinner and film presentation for Saturday, March 31 with Bill, and his party as VIP guests. The leading member of the Sydney Project Dive team, Samir Alhafith, had very kindly offered to travel some six hours distance from Sydney to Merimbula to show a film of their historic dive on the wreck of the William Dawes and to include in his commentary, a brief history of some of the World War Two ships sunk along the New South Wales coastline.

After many months of planning, the Saturday night of 31 March finally arrived and over one hundred guests crowded into the William Dawes Room at the RSL for the memorial dinner 6-30 start. Bill and his party had arrived in Merimbula from Sydney the night before. The evening was opened by a welcome speech by Master of Ceremonies RSL sub-branch secretary, Tony Toussaint on behalf of the RSL and the Bega Valley Shire Mayor, Tony Allen also welcomed the visitors on behalf of the people of Merimbula. In reply, Bill Minton thanked all present for their efforts to help him achieve his cherished dream. Later in the evening, Samir Alhafith gave his film presentation which was most informative especially all the technical aspects of diving.

The next morning, 1 April, the charter boat True Blue departed at 9 a.m. from the Merimbula Jetty and proceeded to an area twelve nautical miles east of Turingal Head where Bill would conduct his service. The bulk of the charter boat cost had been very generously covered by the RSL and they had also arranged with the nearby town of Eden for their Water Police boat Nemesis and the Merimbula Coastal Patrol Sea rescue boat to escort the charter boat to the wreath laying site as a form of tribute by the people of Merimbula to the lost crew of the William Dawes. It should be mentioned that the chosen location east of Turingal Head was for the sunken stern section of the William Dawes not the remaining bulk of the ship that sunk some considerable distance away. The location was based on fluctuating military reports of the time and fishermen experiencing their nets tangling in something, possibly a wreck. Bill’s wish to be ‘in the area’ of the sinking was the best the centenary committee could do under the circumstances. Another charter boat, Broadbill, accompanied the police and sea rescue boat. After approximately two hours of travelling, True Blue reached its destination and the other three boats stood off a short distance away.

In a moving speech, Bill Minton said in part; ‘We are over the wreck of the William Dawes. We have come here to remember and honour the five young men who gave their lives to protect our rights and freedom. Young men who had dreams and ambitions for a life that was cut short right here. To me, they have faces that are firmly embedded in my mind. They were shipmates, and it is fitting we gather to honour their sacrifices.’

Before the wreath was committed to the sea, Bill’s friend, Reverend Dale Dutter, Veteran of Foreign Wars Chaplain conducted a small prayer service. As the wreath was cast overboard, local musician Peter Ongley played ‘Taps’ and the RSL Sub-Branch President, Doug Beaumont recited ‘The Ode’ which completed the service. Unnoticed by most, there was a very poignant moment when a policeman on the bow of the Nemesis came to attention as the wreath floated away from the charter boat. His gesture gave a little extra feeling to the whole purpose of Bill’s memorial service.

On return to Merimbula, it was a very emotional scene at the jetty when everyone was saying their goodbyes. By Bill Minton kindly agreeing to come and be part of the centenary celebrations, it allowed him to complete his heartfelt mission accompanied in spirit, by the people of Merimbula who also cared for him and his fellow crew members back in July 1942. A rare opportunity never to be repeated as Bill Minton passed away the following month in May 2012.

About the Author

Kenneth Wright is an accomplished Melbourne based author of twenty years who specialises in personal stories [memoirs] from those who served be they Army, Navy or Air Force of any country. It is his way of telling readers something that is not usually in history books. He has had many articles published in Australia and overseas including two in Germany.

Having contributed a few stories to the Merchant Navy Pointer Magazine in the USA, the editor made Ken aware of Bill Minton’s plans to visit Australia. This resulted in him assisting with arrangements for the Merimbula visit and celebrations.