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     The SS Brazil made the Atlantic crossing safely and put into Bermuda for provisions on Wednesday, 8^th July 1942; where the ship picked up an additional 252 construction workers, running out on their contract with the air base. 

        Bermuda Island.

     After a fleeting two-day port of call, she set out on her final leg of the journey to New York; Friday, 10^th July 1942.  This was the most dangerous leg, because America, at this stage of the war, lacked the necessary ships and planes to adequately patrol the East Coast for German submarine “Wolf Packs.” In fact it was so bad that summer of ’42 - one night during this leg of the journey - my parents actually witnessed explosive flashes and fires erupting beyond the horizon.  It was from a convoy, which had left New York, being attacked by German submarines.  The approaches to New York Harbor, at this period, were becoming a virtual ship’s graveyard.

     Convoy leaving New York being attacked by a German Wolf Pack.

     However, despite this the SS Brazil experienced a stroke of luck, in the shape of an escort, a USN Destroyer, the USS Nicholson (DD-442), and a Martin PBM Mariner flying boat patrol bomber. 

       USS Nicholson.

         Martin PBM.

     Being faster the Destroyer zigzagged in front of the SS Brazil, while the PBM flew wide circles overhead; both were looking for German Submarines.  They would accompany her all the way to New York.

     Finally, on Sunday, 12th July 1942 - one day outside of New York - my mother was in her cramped, crowded cabin attempting to pack the suitcases allotted to Pinkie and herself.  This was in anticipation of their disembarking the next day – when she heard her name called.  Upon doing an about-face, Mom observed my father, standing in the doorway, wearing his life jacket and holding a spare for her.

     Let’s hit “pause” for an interval, dear reader.  Pinkie was running around in one of the newer USN kapok-filled life jackets - thanks to “her gun crew” - which were light weight and more comfortable. 

     The passengers, on the other hand, were stuck with the old-fashioned, white canvas jacket with bulky blocks of compressed cork sewn into them; making them stiff, heavy and very uncomfortable. In point of fact, they were the same type of life jacket, worn by the passengers and crew, of the Titanic in 1912. 

     The Titanic’s life jacket.

     

     And we’re all aware of how well that turned out.

     Finding Pop in the doorway struck Mother as odd, for this area was “Off Limits” to men.  Nonetheless, what was really odd was the way he looked.  My dad was sheet white.  She had never before seen him so scared. 

     “Get this life jacket on and get up on deck...NOW!” Father barked at her.

     Mom started to object - since she hadn’t finished packing yet – but was interrupted by a visceral, deep explosion that sounded far off underwater.  Then the entire iron cruise ship trembled.  Consequently it occurred to her that the SS Brazil was under attack!

     Six months pregnant with me, struggling into her antiquated life jacket, Mom ran behind Dad as best she could through darkened, narrow corridors and stairways.  Then bells started ringing, calling the “NAGs” to man their battle stations at the guns.  But passengers erroneously thought this was the signal to “Abandon Ship!”

     All at once people were everywhere - running in every direction – bumping past Mom.  She told me it was like one of those bad dreams, where one is being chased across quicksand, and is mired down and can’t move.  All the while those distant, intermittent explosions continued to rock the ship.  Claustrophobia, panic and vomit rose in my mother’s throat.

     When my parents at last got topside - into the light - they found the pandemonium even worse.  Mobs of people were running in all directions that afternoon; attempting to locate family members and get to a life boat, despite these vessels being in short supply.

     Wisely my folks didn’t follow suit, dear reader. They wanted information instead: Were they in danger of sinking?  How long did they have?  Where was Pinkie?

     Not joining the mobs running for the life boats, my parents headed for the ship’s stern and the 4”/50 single purpose gun.  For they were certain the gun crew would be there at battle stations – along with Pinkie – and should know if the ship were about to sink.

     Upon reaching the gun’s position they located Pinkie with “her gun crew,” and the “gun captain” in charge – a young ensign - welcomed them.  As the gun’s platform was elevated, well above the mob crowding the decks, my folks ultimately got a view of the big picture.  The gun captain pointed out to my parents the US Navy Destroyer - circling the SS Brazil while launching depth charges – causing the distant explosions rocking the ship.  Apparently the Destroyer had picked up a German Submarine on its sonar that was stalking the SS Brazil.  For my parent’s ship to experience such luck was astronomical.

     Depth Charge (Ashcan) being loaded.

    

      Depth Charges being launched.

                       

     Depth Charges exploding behind Destroyer.

     During the next hour my folks watched the Destroyer circling and dumping “ashcans” – blasting giant fountains of white-misting water from the sea’s iron-green surface.

     Abruptly the afternoon was shattered by three long blasts from the SS Brazil’s foghorn; the officers on the bridge had spotted something in the water.  Presently, the destroyer replied with its foghorn. 

     The young gun captain had his binoculars up to his eyes, and un-corked a mighty “Whoop!”  Then exclaimed, “They got the Kraut-bastards!”  The gun crew cheered!

     He handed the binoculars to my dad, and pointed where to look in the water.  Pop detected a long oil slick on the surface - with various bits of debris - and two floating bodies.

      Dead Nazi Submariners, coated in fuel oil from the ruptured sub’s fuel tanks.

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