Toasting the Andalucia Star's brave crews

Out of the blue I recently learnt that another little girl - three-year-old Gillian Ash - was rescued from the sea after the Blue Star Line cargo ship, the Andalucia Star, was torpedoed and sunk on 6th October 1942 during the Second World War.

Gillian Ash fell from the same tipped lifeboat as Jill McNichol, the five-year-old girl whose rescue I've detailed in previous postings. Gillian's mother plucked her from the cold choppy Atlantic and pulled her up into a lifeboat. 

I received details about Gillian Ash from Mary Godward, whose uncle George Godward was on his way to England as a volunteer on board the Andalucia Star when it was torpedoed three times by a German U-Boat submarine - U-107 - and sunk with three lives lost. 

I'll highlight more details about Gillian Ash's rescue story in future postings. But for the moment, I just want to say how pleasing it was to receive the following apt and timely note today from Jill McNichol.

Jill kindly wrote:

"My father always phoned me and we would drink a toast today to the Andalucia Star, her brave crew and all who sailed on her during her many voyages. 

Join me in a glass of anything you like. 

All the best and cheers, Jill."

Sixty-eight years ago, Jill was crossing the Atlantic on the Andalucia Star with her father, S.G. Bicheno. According to one account, Mrs L.A. Green, “an elderly stewardess”, switched on a red light on Jill's lifejacket before lifting the little girl into a lifeboat with other women and children. 

Most of the lifeboats had already been safely lowered but, as another survivor Douglas Gibson later recalled, one of the lowering lifeboats went down bow first, throwing many of its occupants, including Jill (and also Gillian) it seems, into the sea. "The bar steward and an elderly stewardess were crushed between the ship and the lifeboat and killed,” said Gibson. 


William Wheeler, the Andalucia’s lamp trimmer (the ship's lighting technician), heard little Jill’s cry for help and then spotted her red light switched on earlier by Mrs Green. Wheeler immediately dived into the water, swam through wreckage for a distance of 600 yards to Jill and supported her for 30 minutes before helping Jill into the lifeboat. 

"Daddy was getting into a lifeboat when the third torpedo struck," says Jill. "He was very lucky not to have been killed on the spot."

Early October is a poignant moment for Jill and possibly other Andalucia Star survivors and their descendants dotted around the world. "Daddy, every year when he was alive, would phone me on the anniversary of the sinking and we would drink a toast to the ship and her brave crew," says Jill.

So, earlier today, rummaging inside a kitchen cupboard, I found an old bottle of Sauvignon Blanc from New Zealand and two ancient dusty cans of Fosters lager. I opted for the bottle of wine and pondered how a single event nearly 70 years ago continues to echo through the decades and connect with successive generations.

So, I raise my glass to my grandfather, Leslie Coleman (1906-81), who sailed many times as a crew member on the Andalucia Star - and I'll join you, Jill, in the toast you and your father so thoughtfully invoked: 

"To the Andalucia Star, her brave crew and all who sailed on her during her many voyages...we remember and salute you."

Paul Coleman, London, October 2010

Thanks to Jill McNichol.

The Andalucia Star: a survivor's tale (Part I of 3)

Once again, I am the astonished yet grateful recipient of another remarkable survivor's tale from the sinking of the SS Andalucia Star during World War II.


The Andalucia was cruelly hit and sunk by three torpedoes fired from U-107, a German U-Boat submarine on 6 October 1942. (Click on link to see Wallace Trickett's painting of the attack).


I am now indebted to Michael (Miguel) Webb, a pediatrician working in Comodoro Rivadavia in southern Argentina, who has emailed me a letter he found only recently, written by his father, Gordon F. Webb. The letter, dated 1st November, 1942, written by Gordon to his parents, vividly recalls how he survived the U-Boat attack and witnessed the Andalucia Star’s final moments.

Gordon Webb's letter merits its own space, so my next two postings will feature his eye-witness account in full. Just to remind you, the background to all of this is that my own dear grandfather Les (pictured below) had sailed across the Atlantic many times on board the Andalucia Star before World War II. Naturally, Les was very upset when he learnt the 15,000-ton Blue Star refrigerated passenger, cargo and mail liner - one of his favourite merchant navy ships - had been torpedoed and sunk.

You might also recall how the life of a little girl, aged five, was saved by the bravery of  stewardess Mrs L.A. Green and crewman William Wheeler. Green had switched on a red light on the little girl's lifejacket before lifting her into a lifeboat. Minutes later, the lifeboat dropped as it was lowered and tipped Green and presumably the little girl into the Atlantic waters.
Green was killed but the little girl was fortunate. William Wheeler, hearing the little girl's cries, saw the red light and swam to save her. Incredibly, shortly after I posted this tale, I received an email from Jill McNichol-Harrell(née Bicheno) that simply began: "I was the little girl."


Michael Webb tells me Gordon, his father, spoke very little about the war. “But I do know he was in the Royal Air Force, flying as a navigator in Sunderland flying boats,” says Michael. “He was based in Lanark till he was grounded due to ear trouble.

“Remarkably, it was a Sunderland that sunk U-107,” adds Michael. “I wonder if there is any way of finding out where the avenging Sunderland was based?”

Michael adds the Andalucia Star’s Argentine flag was recovered with the passengers’ names on it. For many years it was shown in the Luján History Museum. 

So, Gordon Webb's dramatic and poignant letter, written less than one month after the U-Boat attack, is featured in my next two postings, The Andalucia Star; a survivor's tale, Parts 2 and 3.

(Pictured: Leslie Richard Coleman, my grandfather Les)

Paul Coleman, London, August 2010.