Transport ship sank with Ernest Cronk onboard (1917)

Post date: May 13, 2014 6:48:54 PM

Extract from Kent Messenger of 31st March 1917

THE

MINED TRANSPORT .

List of Kent Men on Board.

Graphic and Exclusive Account.

It was made known, to the world on Thurs­day that the Admiralty transport Tyndareus struck a mine at 8 p.m. on February 9th off Cape Agulhas (near Simon’s Bay, South Africa), and immediately began to settle by the head, with her propellers well out of water. The official account states that, the transport had on board a battalion of the Middlesex Regiment (known as the Die-hards), but with

them were a number of men from the County of Kent, as will be seen below. Both the official account and that which has appeared in the South African papers speak warmly of the courage, coolness, and disci­pline of the troops².

A south-easterly gale was blowing, but the weather was fine, and the majority of the soldiers were watching another transport which, was coming along be­hind, when suddenly a terrible shock was felt, and the vessel began to fill with water. At once the roll was called and the “stand easy’’ given, and in a few moments, though the vessel had already begun to settle down by the head, the latest marching song, “The Long, Long Trail,” was taken, up by the troops, who followed with “ Tipperary.” Two steamers were at once despatched to the rescue, and arrived upon the scene half an

hour later. During this trying time, although faced by the probability of imminent death, the troops maintained the same steadfast courage and discipline. It is noteworthy that the incident took place not far from the spot where the Birkenhead was lost; and never was a tradition of the British Army

more worthily upheld than on this occasion. Thanks to the devotion and perseverance of the captain, ship’s officers, and engine-room staff, the ship and all on board were, saved. The troops were transferred to the two steamers and taken to Simon’s Town, where the Tyndareus subsequently returned under her own steam with two holds flooded and another leaking.

The vessel left England in January, and among those on, board were: —

....,

E. Cronk (Wateringbury)¹,... H. Fisher (Teston),

......... [other names not transcribed].

Lance-Corp'l. Back was formerly on our Ash­ford staff, and from a letter just, received from him we gather that the troops actually left Aldershot on December 23rd, but were detained a fortnight in port, and (writes our correspon­dent), the boys were very glad when the boat moved off on Friday, January 5th. Having gone through the usual experiences on board, they arrived in harbour on Wednesday, Jan. 17th, and stayed there for nearly a week, but were unable to go ashore. The heat was terrific, and throughout the day they only wore knicks and a shirt, while, at night they slept up on deck. They left on Tuesday, Jan. 23rd, and the following day, encountered a storm. They again saw land on February 5th, and arrived in port at 3 a.m. In the afternoon the whole battalion, in full dress uniform, with rifle, and headed, by the band, were taken for a route march through the town, and caused a good deal of excitement, the streets being thronged with people. They returned to the ship about 6.30 p.m., and were afterwards given permission to go out until 9 o’clock- .

‘Well,” says our correspondent, "we made up for lost time and had a rare treat. Walk­ing through the well-lit streets one could not realise being, in South Africa. It was more like being in London, some of the buildings being magnificent. We did enjoy that even­ing, and when we got back, to our hammocks we acted more like school children. Right through-out the night we were telling each

other where we had been, and what we had seen, etc. Fancy, after being, shut away for six weeks and practically seeing nothing, being let loose in a large town.

“Early next morning, February 6th, we left port, and thought we had passed out of the danger zone. Lifebelts, which we had previously worn every day, were put away, and the submarine guard was taken off. Well, that night about 7.00 p.m., over 100 miles out, the boat met with an accident. I was playing a game of solo at the time, and as soon as I heard the report, I flew for my lifebelt, and

at once fell in on deck at the life-boat station. All I had on was a pair of knicks and a shirt. The men paraded to their places very cool, and here we had to remain for the order to lower the boats. Before this was done, the boat begin to sink in the front, and we thought she was going under. Yet the boys stood there in their places awaiting orders. Some were smoking, while others were chaffing about

there being no kit inspection in the morning. There they were absolutely facing death, and yet not a murmur! My word, the discipline shown was worthy of any regiment, and it was owing chiefly to this, and the quick ap­pearance of the two other ships, that not a man was lost. Even the dogs on board were saved.

“When the order to lower the boats was given, the men of our boat had to climb down a ladder a depth of over 30 feet, and others down a rope. Our life-boat came in for a nasty crash or two against the ship’s side, owing to the choppy sea, and consequently began to take in water. Two men fell into the sea, but these we pulled into the boat,whilst we also saved two of the dogs from a watery grave. We found it a hard job to get clear of the steamer, as the boat was con­tinually washed up against her. This and the heavy wash helped the inflow of water, and our boat, was soon half full of water. We ere unable to find the baler, so the men who were lucky enough to have their helmets and caps, had to use them to bale the water out. Steamers soon began to arrive in answer to S.O.S. calls, and we made for a large hospital ship, which was brilliantly lit. It was hard work getting over to her, as there was hardly one amongst us who could use the oars, and you can guess, with a heavy sea on and the cramped room, what a difficulty we were in. We tossed about terribly, but the boys stuck it gamely, and although I thought we should not reach safety owing to the inflow of water, we managed it after being in the boat for nearly two hours. At the time the boys were going up the ladder to the ship those below were baling for dear life. It was a treat to reach safety again, and the officials on board treated us most kindly. A little later we were taken down through the hospital, where several hundred of wounded soldiers were and here we were given Bovril and hot tea. Other boats were arriving in the mean­time, so the officials were kept continually busy. About 600 of us were rescued by this ship. The ship hung about all night, and it was after midnight when the last boat load was rescued, having drifted about for over 5 1/2 hours. The Colonel was the last of the bat­talion to leave the Tyndareus and he asked the men to give him a song, and they at once struck up: “ Pack up Your Troubles in Your Old Kit Bag, and Smile, Smile, Smile.” He acted finely, and the men feel much prouder of him.

“Well, the boat did not sink and was able to steam towards Simon’s Town early in the morning. We remained with it until an escort came up and took charge, while we returned to Cape Town. At the quay we were trans­ferred to the train, afterwards being taken to a camp (which was used in the Boer War). At the Station we were met by the fair sex, who gave us cigarettes, and on the march to

the camp were cheered hy the onlookers. We must have presented a rummy sort of pro­cession, as practically the whole of the men were short of some part of dress, some like myself, having only knicks and a shirt—besides a lifebelt. On arrival at the camp we paraded for blankets, waterproof sheet, mess tin, knife, fork and spoon, and soon afterwards settled down under canvass. At mid-night the other 400 arrived and so we had to get out and give them a ringing cheer. Long through the night, we were recalling our ex­periences. Next day, through the kindness of the inhabitants of Cape Town, we were each presented with a pipe, 1/2lb. tobacco, a box of matches, and a khaki handkerchief, besides a bunch of grapes. In the evening we heard that the boat had been safely taken into Simon’s Town practically on the point of sinking, a feat well undertaken by the cap­tain.

“The inhabitants here are very nice to us and we could not be treated better in our own homes. They have even stopped some of our fellows and asked them to tea, while several gentlemen have bought us, ices and fruit, etc. On Friday February 9th, half of the Battallion were entertained by the Mayor

at the Town Hall. Here we had a ripping time, being given a first class programme of vocal music. Cigarettes and a lot of other good things, were also provided. Next day we received melons and pears, while the rest of the Battallion were also entertained. On Sunday, February 11th, the goods saved from the ship were laid out and each man was given a chance to find his own tackle. I found most of mine with the exception of my watch, looking glass, towel, shirt, pair of trousers and nearly 10s, worth of goods which I bought at Cape Town before the accident. Today, (Monday), the Battalion had to parade to hear the message from the King read out. This was as follows:

“Please express to the Officer Commanding the ----- Battalion of the Middlesex Regiment my admiration of the conduct displayed by all ranks on the occasion of the accident to the Tyndareus. In their discipline and cour­age they worthily upheld the splendid tradi­tion of the Birkenhead, ever cherished in the annals of the British Army.”

“The Battalion presented arms while the National Anthem was sung, and then the men with helmets on rifles gave three hearty cheers for His Majesty. The rest of the day was given as a holiday.

“P.S.—They have just opened the Town Hall for us from 3 to 9 daily. Refreshments, etc-, free. They are treating us too well. Shall never forget their kindness.”

Notes:

1. There were 2 men called Ernest Cronk in Wateringbury in 1901 census, one born in 1878 living near the North Pole; and one born in 1888 living in Canon Lane.

2. There is an Oil Painting by Stanley Llewellyn Wood (1866-1928), depicting the event. During its passage from Devonport to Hong Kong during World War One, the troopship SS 'Tyndareus' was due to put in at Table Bay, South Africa, for fuel and fresh provisions. However, on 6 February 1917 while rounding Cape Agulhas, some 108 miles (173 km) south-east of Cape Town, the 11,000-ton troopship struck a mine laid by the German raider 'Wolf', with a terrific explosion. The ship rapidly began to fill with water and started going down by the head. The painting illustrates the moments on deck when, instead of panicking, all the men of 25th (Garrison) Battalion Middlesex Regiment obeyed the command of the CO, Lieutenant-Colonel John Ward MP, to draw up on parade. This orderly response enabled boats to be lowered without mishap and, with other assistance, all those on board were saved.