March 7th, 1941
On board the light cruiser Marseillaise
Letter from the mechanical engineer 3rd class Charles de Kerdonval to his brother Louis, Marine Engineer on a cooperative mission to the Navy Yard in Philadelphia.
"At sea, on the evening of March 7th, 1941.
My dear Louis,
You who are in the United States, let me tell you how we are fighting here in the Mediterranean. You know that since my graduation from the EIM* I have been assigned as the 4th engine assistant on the cruiser Marseillaise.
Yesterday was the day of the big firsts. My boss, Ingénieur Principal Garnier, had decided to let me do my first solo engine shift.
So I attacked the "20-24"** quite anxious, but the pleasure of dominating one hundred thousand thoroughbreds rejoices my heart. At the mine (that's how we call the machine), the noise and the heat are already intense. I monitor dozens of indicators and the parameters are correct: steam pressure 27 kg, coffer temperatures 325°.
Suddenly, the petty officer on watch at the condenser taps me on the shoulder and yells in my ear
"Lieutenant, there's a bone in the TPE ***!" Without further ado I go down to the lower deck and discover a...leg bone! Going back up to the checkpoint, I find the whole crew waiting for me, hilarious:
"Welcome to the tribordais, lieutenant!"
The watch continues, monotonously, as the bugle sounds: "Battle stations, the tribordais being on watch". In this case, it is the IM1 Mach-pro**** that comes to take my place and I have to go to the safety zone first.
A few minutes later, I arrive at the zone post where my assistant, master carpenter Goasduff, a solid naval officer from Le Conquet, is waiting for me: "Staff is complete and
and equipped, equipment in place and checked.
- Good, just like in the exercise.
- Only now, this time it's for real, Gast, I hope that these gunners will do their job correctly.
I have about thirty men, a few specialist carpenters and electricians, a telephone operator and unlicensed seamen who make up the bulk of the firemen. We are ready and the long wait begins. Around 23:45, the loudspeaker broadcasts: "This is the commander. We are in combat formation with the La Galissonnière and we are going to engage the enemy. I count on you all."
Well, here we are.
The ship vibrates gently, we gradually increase our speed. A little at the stern, dry clicks and typical hydraulic noises: the gunners are maneuvering.
- Firing is imminent!
The whole team sits down against the bulkheads, legs folded, arms crossed on the knees and mouth open. Bang! The sheets vibrate in resonance, the smell of combustion of the propellant charges invades the passageway, the first of 152 has just left, followed by a long series.
Then it is a terrible shock, I am thrown on my operator, dazed, but not broken.
- Forward Zone, go to examine the impact and give an account.
It is the Central Security Station that calls. Inside the area, everything seems intact except for a few broken light bulbs and some light doors opened under the shock.
I ask the PC Artillery to stop the shooting to make an exit towards the front beach with Goasduff and four firemen. I carefully open the hatch and come face to face with the mouth of a 152 that seems to be lying on the deck. We progress to the body of the I-turret. It has been pierced on the roof and the shell has been breached several meters to the rear.
The projectile must have caused the internal explosion of the shells during loading; no need to go and look inside, everything must be charred. The deck is littered with smoking debris and the paint on the bulkheads was burning with a multitude of flames. Goasduff has two lances put into action, soon the 7 kg of pressure from the fire hose does its job on the walls and then inside the turret from where white smoke begins to emerge. It is water vapor, a sign that the fire is under control. For reasons of conscience, I have two other hoses watch for any resumption of the fire and I report to the security headquarters. The turret II can then resume its fire.
The second act of our troubles concerned the rear area of the building.
A salvo of enemy shells hit the catapult, the avia crane and the hangar. Unlike my team, my comrade's team in the rear area was unable to intervene, the speed of the ship making that the flames and toxic fumes from the hangar fell back towards the rear deck, preventing any progress towards the origin of the fire. They could only protect the main deck against the spread of the fire by spraying the ceilings as well as the cable and piping passages to cool them down. The powerful dewatering pumps were able to evacuate all the run-off water that had accumulated in the back of the rear compartments.
The PC Sécu then asks us to attack with our comrades of the middle zone from the gangways and the chimney bridge, which we do. At least a dozen fire hoses are continuously spraying the hangar and its surroundings. Protected behind the mask of a 90 mm turret, I lead my team. All the personnel who are not essential to the operations and the artillery are now fighting this gigantic fire under the orders of IMP Garnier, who is directing operations from the Security HQ.
Inside, the ship has been transformed into an anthill fighting for collective survival.
The dining rooms have been transformed into a sorting center and a field infirmary, the corridors are cluttered with fire hoses, stretchers, various materials, men jostle each other, help each other, care for each other, support each other, all united in one goal: to save the ship. This enormous mess soon becomes a well-oiled machine. A noria is set up to relieve the firemen who, under the heat, can only hold out for a few minutes in the fire. The firemen take out crates of oranges from the lazarette and the nurses distribute salt tablets and buckets of drinking water generously: the faster the firefighters rotate, the more effective the firefighting.
When the Admiral decides to withdraw to the west, we can finally slow down and position the ship across the wind, which facilitates the intervention towards the hangar. Soon the smoke changes color to lighten and disappear. The fight against the sailor's worst enemy, fire, is for the moment in our favor.
At sunrise, the Marseillaise was a shadow of its former self. The aft turret is blackened by fire and unusable, the superstructure of the hangar has partially melted, the mast and the avia crane have collapsed on the rear chimney and the catapult is bent in two.
On the front, the I turret with its gaping hole is the tomb of its missing crew. The losses are high and the firemen burned or intoxicated during the attack on the hangar are crammed into the dining rooms where the nurses try to soothe their pain.
But, my dear Louis, the enemy was not finished with us.
In the early morning, as the clearing operations and makeshift repairs were in full swing, we observe in the sky a strange ballet of white and black streaks hanging on points agitated of disordered movements. It is our air escort that is attacking a squadron of enemy bombers. We do not have the opportunity to follow the show, the recall to the battle stations telling us that we were not out of the woods.
I went to the rear zone to replace IM2 Leroux, who was intoxicated by the smoke during the night, during the attack of the hangar. Goasduff will be in charge of the front area.
- All personnel available and equipped, equipment in place and checked.
- Good.
This time, I don't add "Just like the drills." Here we go again.
- Air raid alert. Imminent flak fire.
The speed increases, the propellers cavitate, the hull vibrates, the rudders forcing through the water, the ship listing to one side and then to the other, and again and again, these are the evasive maneuvers in front of the bombers.The crackling of the 13.2 mm from the bridge block and some 90 mm shots can be heard. Muffled noises coming through the hull, bombs exploding in the water. The enemy seems to be working hard on our wounded ships; the Foch, which is sailing with us seemed to be quite damaged this morning too.
Then two explosions, a noise that is now becoming almost familiar to us, this time on the bow. Shortly afterwards, we were called to assist the teams already in place. A new carnage is offered to our eyes, a bomb exploded in the watch room and another one in the gonio room. The bridge block is smoking from all sides and only the blockhouse has resisted. The shattered and blackened walls appear unreal and only the intact fire direction still seems to defy the enemy from the top of its tripod mast. But after several hours of effort and sacrifice, the fires are extinguished.
After some makeshift repairs, we are now on our way to NAF.
According to the chief, the float did not suffer too much and the ship should even be able to be rebuilt, perhaps in the United States? I hope this will give us the opportunity, my dear Louis, to meet again soon. You and your American friends will have to make sure that we have a ship that can continue the fight, in the right line of the French maritime architecture.*****
Your brother who loves you,
Charles "
* EIM : student marine engineer.
** 20-24: watch from 8 p.m. to midnight.
*** TPE: condenser extraction turbo-pump.
**** IM1, 2, 3: mechanical engineer 1st, 2nd, 3rd class, (equivalent to LV, EV1 and EV2). IMP: senior mechanical engineer (equivalent to a corvette captain). Mach-pro: head of the propulsion group (not to be confused with the chief engineer).
***** The Marseillaise will be refitted in the United States as a light anti-aircraft cruiser (CLAA), with a new bridge (Algérie type in reduction) and an armament of 6 x 5-inch/38 mm twins (three in the front, one in the rear - plus two lateral and offset); 12 x 40 mm (in 6 couplings) and 8 x 20 mm on single mounts. Addition of two Mk.37 fire directors. Removal of the catapult, the seaplane hangar and all the old armament (except the torpedo tubes). The work lasted until June 1942.
