USQUE AD MARE
A History of the Canadian Coast Guard and Marine Services
by Thomas E. Appleton

The Second War

No sooner had the Department settled down to work than the outbreak of war disrupted all plans for improving the national weal and everything gave way to mobilization. The enormous pressure involved in conversion of Canadian industry to the needs of armament absorbed the energies of the minister who, when the Department of Munitions and Supply was established in April 1940, was appointed to that office, taking with him responsibility for air matters. The Hon. P. J. A. Cardin became the Minister of Transport from 1940 to 1942, followed by the Hon. J. E. Michaud from 1942 to 1945. The former had been Minister of Marine from 1924 to 1930 while the latter had previously been Minister of Fisheries, so that both were well acquainted with the marine business of the Department.

Despite the demands of war on staff and equipment established for the arts of peace, the normal functions of marine administration carried on. Icebreakers were in heavy demand to assist shipping in the St. Lawrence which was affected by the naval convoys and the necessity of extending the navigational season to the limits. The Dominion Lighthouse Depot at Prescott, which had been engaged in the manufacture of aids to navigation, was now required to help with war production, notably practice targets for the RCAF and items for the Naval Service. There was a sudden demand for gas buoys to mark the war channels, and the Department designed and built a better substitute using slow discharge electrical storage batteries.

Few ships of any importance were built for the Department during hostilities. A notable exception was the Ernest Lapointe, built at Lauzon in 1941, the year in which our former minister had died. Ice conditions on the river that year were not severe and, when the new icebreaker was placed in service in February she was put to work with the Saurel and N.B. McLean in routine clearance of the channel. It is an interesting reflection on the state of winter navigation that, even in 1941, the first arrival at Montreal was not until April the 19th.

If the commissioning of our newest ship was uneventful, the unexpected departure of a veteran was hardly a routine voyage. In 1941 an enquiry was received as to whether the Canadian Government would be prepared to assist Russia by the temporary transfer of an icebreaker for service at Murmansk, which was then the only port open directly to Russia for the allied supply convoys. Canada had helped in this way before, as has been related, with the sale of the Earl Grey in 1914; in 1915 this was followed by the Minto and in 1916 by the J. D. Hazen, a new icebreaker then building at Canadian Vickers, which eventually returned to Canadian Service as the Mikula. Negotiations were concluded in January 1942 by the passing of an Order in Council accepting a Russian offer to purchase the Montcalm, an icebreaker built in Scotland in 1904. It was proposed to sell the ship for $200,000, the Soviet Government to pay for the expenses of delivery and repatriation of the Canadian crew, estimated to cost a further $90,000. Eventually the cabinet decided to make the transaction an outright gift and an Order in Council was passed to that effect after the vessel had been delivered. But much was to happen before Mr. L. D. Wilgress, the Canadian Ambassador to Russia, formally presented the ship to her new owners and before Mr. V. M. Molotov, Peoples Commissar for Foreign Affairs, expressed the warmest thanks of the Soviet Government for their Canadian gift.

The Montcalm arrived at Halifax in November 1941 to prepare for the voyage. It was impossible to find a crew locally, the Naval Service could hardly recruit sufficient men for their corvettes, and eventually a mixed Canadian and British crew was engaged from the Ministry of War Transport manning pool in Montreal. In January the Montcalm sailed in convoy. Within a day she was back, having been towed home under a signal of distress, with her stokehold awash and in some danger of sinking. The trouble was found to lie in the operation of an ash ejector, the pumps and bilges were cleared, and the vessel was all but ready for sea when more troubles developed and the master became ill. With the difficulty of finding a relief at short notice, the Department turned to one of their permanent officers, Captain F. S. Slocombe, then Examiner of Masters and Mates at Toronto. Captain Slocombe left home immediately on receipt of a telephone call and, after a hurried stop at Ottawa, was in Halifax to take over the ship within a few days.

Among the hazards of convoy operation was that of funnel smoke which could betray the presence of ships to enemy submarines below the sea horizon. The Montcalm was known as a smoker and had been fitted with a chemical smoke reducer before sailing. Thus protected, Captain Slocombe left Halifax in his new command on February 10, 1942. Before long he was recording:

"We were receiving repeated complaints from the convoy commodore concerning the amount of smoke . . . . the special eliminator was tried but the only result was to intensify the blackness of the smoke."

The Montcalm was now a liability to the convoy, and was again sent back:

"You will be detached from the convoy tomorrow . . . recommend you take definite steps to reduce smoke before rejoining . . ."

A few days later, by way of Newfoundland and Sydney, the Montcalm was back at the Agency wharf at Dartmouth, discharging her bunkers and taking in new coal which, it was hoped, would be of better quality.

On the third sailing, the old vessel successfully joined her convoy and proceeded towards Scotland without incident other than the normal occasions of a small ship in the wartime Atlantic. Rolling incessantly, for the Montcalm had no bilge keels, a leak developed in the fresh water tanks and, to the ever present anxiety of her captain about coal consumption, was now added the prospect of running out of feed for her ancient water tube boilers. The steering gear broke down. Such was seafaring in 1942.

Reporting to the Naval Officer in Charge at Oban, Captain Slocombe received his orders for the Murmansk convoy, together with some welcome encouragement from an officer with more than a passing interest in an obscure Canadian icebreaker en route to North Russia. The officer was Captain Trousdale who, with a naval crew in 1914, had taken the Earl Grey to Archangel by the same dreary route. But at that time there were no aircraft and the northern seas held only the occasional U-Boat under an empty leaden sky. This time things were different.

The Point Pleasant Park at anchor off New York in 1943. The vessel is fully loaded and ready to join her convoy. Note the long booms for anti-torpedo netting, life rafts ready for launching, and defensive armament.

On an evening of low cloud and bitter snow came the first abortive attack from three JU 88s: next day, for a nine hour period of suspense, the group was shadowed before a slashing strike which sent the next ship in column to the bottom in fifteen seconds, sank the commodore and vice commodore, and threw the convoy into an emergency regrouping under the rear commodore. Then the ships were dive-bombed, with one near miss. In due course the Montcalm picked up her pilot in the Kola Inlet. It had been a tragic convoy, typical of many in that lonely trade. Despite air raids, shortage of food and supplies, difficulties of language and the frustrations inevitable in a front line port of war, the Montcalm was transferred to her new owners and the situation was relieved by a professional rapport between the captain and the Russian representative, Mr. I. D. Papanin, a famous Arctic voyager. Of him, Captain Slocombe wrote:

". . . he was landed (in 1937) on an ice-floe near the North Pole with three other men and set up a meteorological station. They were on the floe for nine months and at one time their little floating island was reduced to 98 feet by 164. Their exploit added much to the worlds meteorological knowledge . . ."

Finally, the Canadian ensign of the Montcalm was hauled down and the flag of the USSR was hoisted in its place. By this time food was really short but, as is the way of seamen when hard going is the rule, no one grumbled and they left the ship in cheerful mood; Captain Slocombe recorded: "I was proud of my men that night." Sailing in different ships, all were repatriated safely. Captain Slocombe was awarded the Order of the British Empire for this service.