A Houston judge learned on Sep. 8, 1939 that his daughter not only had survived the U-boat sinking of the British passenger ship Athenia but also had been hailed as a heroine by the American ambassador.
In her last letter before leaving Europe, Helen Hannay told her parents not to worry. “There may be a delay, but we will get out all right. We aren’t in the least afraid.” The teenaged traveler closed on a prophetic note: “I am certainly glad to have had this lovely trip and to have seen all the beautiful things before they are blown up.”
Germany invaded Poland on Sep. 1, 1939, and later that day the Athenia left Liverpool on a 10-day voyage to Montreal. The British liner carried a crew of 315 and 1,102 passengers -- 469 Canadians, 311 Americans, 150 European refugees and the rest British and Irish. She had 1,600 life jackets and 26 lifeboats with room for 1,828 people.
The British and French gave Hitler a day and a half to come to his senses and pull out of Poland. When the blitzkrieg did not even stop for lunch, they declared war on Germany early on Sep. 3. The dreaded news reached the Athenia a few minutes past 11.
At 7:39 p.m. the Athenia was 200 miles west of Scotland. Seventeen year old Harry Bridge of Abilene, one of 26 Texans on-board, was lounging in a folding chair on the tourist deck. A sudden shout from the crow’s nest was followed by “a terrific explosion. Clouds of smoke arose from the sides of the ship and a huge spout of water jumped about 70 feet above the ship and came down into the lifeboats half filling them.”
The son of a Red Cross disaster relief director felt his way down pitch-black and panic-filled passages to fetch his life jacket from his cabin. Harry bumped into his older sister Constance, who said she would meet him on deck.
“When I reached my boat station, I could not see her. Mother and I got into a boat and just as it was pulling off I saw Constance in another boat.” The three Bridges made it off the stricken ship in one piece and safely back to West Texas.
Dorothy Fouts, daughter of a prominent Houston attorney, was dining with other young women from Texas “when we heard the explosion on the lower deck. The boat rocked, lights went out, the furniture turned over and the food that had been on the table flew onto the floor” making it nearly impossible to stay upright.
“When the ship was torpedoed, I was at dinner with some of the girls,” recalled Mrs. Arthur Strain, the Dallasite in charge of 17 coeds from the Lone Star State. She searched the ship from stem to stern, rounded everybody up and put them all in a lifeboat.
The calm efficiency of the Athenia crew saved countless lives. Within 80 minutes, 24 of the 26 lifeboats were loaded and lowered into the North Atlantic. At 11 o’clock, the captain and remaining crew members abandoned ship.
The U.S. freighter City of Flint, Norwegian tanker Knute Nelson and the Southern Cross, a Swedish millionaire’s yacht, heard the Athenian’s SOS and raced through the night to the rescue. Close behind this trio came a number of British naval vessels.
For a day or even two in some cases, family and friends endured the hell of not knowing whether their loved ones aboard the Athenia were dead or alive. Texans sat by the phone in San Angelo, Sonora, Gladewater, College Station, Austin, San Antonio, Ganado, Athens, Dallas, Fort Worth and Houston waiting for the call that could break their heart.
It was no picnic in the lifeboats waiting to be rescued. Mary Kathryn Underwood of Athens swore her boat almost ran into the German U-boat. “A little while after we left the Athenia’s side, we saw the periscope of the submarine and nearly hit it.”
Houstonian Betsy Brown was dumped into the drink, when rough seas caused her lifeboat to flip over. “I saw one man gasp for breath and die. It was horrible.”
Genevieve Morrow, whose father was president of the Houston chamber of commerce, and Rowena Simpson, daughter of a bank president, huddled together in the bottom of lifeboat 15 and chanted “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf?”
The Athenia somehow stayed afloat for 15 and a half hours. Only after the 1,300 survivors were picked up did she finally vanish beneath the waves.
Ninety-three passengers, including 69 women and 16 children, along with 19 crew members lost their lives. Terrible, to be sure, but nothing like the 1,200 dead in the sinking of the Lusitania during World War I.
Every Texan survived without serious injury.
Publisher Jesse Jones passed on to Judge Allen B. Hannay a cablegram from Joseph Kennedy, American ambassador to Britain: “My son Jack (future president of the United States) saw Helen Hannay in Glasgow. She was singled out by all survivors for the heroic way she conducted herself. She united three or four mothers with their families, even though it necessitated going into the ship’s hold, where water was coming in.”
The heroine’s mother was amazed. “It doesn’t seem possible. Helen is such a frail little thing. She only weighs 104 pounds. She has always been so sheltered and has never seen a dead body or even attended a funeral.”
Bartee’s three books and “Best of This Week in Texas History” column collections are available for purchase at barteehaile.com.
