He evacuated troops near Dunkirk. He rescued survivors of ships torpedoed by the Nazis. While at sea, he slept standing up.
He rode a torpedo.
Now, Harry DeWolf is circumnavigating North America.
1940. Near Dunkirk, HMCS St. Laurent is rescuing soldiers when a German bomber appears.
The ship’s gunners are ready. They wait for the order. The bomber rakes the ship with bullets. Bombs land ten feet away.
DeWolf: Why the hell didn't you fire?
Gunnery Officer: Sorry, sir.
July 1940. The SS Arandora Star leaves Liverpool bound for Canada carrying more than 1600 Italian and German prisoners of war. A German U-boat torpedos the ship.
In waters teeming with enemy submarines, DeWolf and the crew of HMCS St. Laurent rescue 857, including these sailors.
A sailor is painting aboard HMCS St. Laurent when he lifts the firing handle of a torpedo to paint under it. Yes. The firing handle. To paint underneath it. It could happen to anyone.
The torpedo ping-pongs around the deck like a baby moose through Aunt Lucy's rhubarb patch.
"It was as slippery as a greased pig and we thought its propeller might cut our feet off. We rode and guided it over the rail and stuck one leg over the rail to hold it steady.”
They release the air cock to stop that baby moose of a torpedo.
The English Channel. April 1944.
Now commanding HMCS Haida, DeWolf is patrolling for German warships with HMCS Athabaskan. An explosion from Athabaskan shoots flames 50 feet into the air.
The ship is sinking. Survivors scramble to abandon ship.
DeWolf chases the enemy ships, driving one aground.
They return to rescue as many survivors as quickly as possible. The enemy is lurking and Haida is a sitting duck. Knowing his fate, Athabaskan’s Lieutenant-Commander John Stubbs, warns off DeWolf.
“Get away, Haida! Get clear!"
DeWolf and the crew of Haida save 42 sailors. Mona Rolls’ husband is not among them.
Back in Calais, Maine, she would soon receive word that he is lost at sea.
Able Seaman Raymond Burton Rolls was 21 years old.
His crews called him “Hard-Over Harry.” Under his command, Haida sank more enemy ships than any other in the Canadian Navy.
But the deaths of those German sailors haunted him for the rest of his life.
He said that children grew up without their fathers “because of me.”
Distinguished Service Order. Distinguished Service Cross. Two Mentions in Dispatches. Officer of the U.S. Legion of Merit and the French Légion d'honneur.
His portrait is on the wall of the Canadian Embassy in Washington, DC.
Vice-Admiral Harry DeWolf died in 2000.
So, no, Hard-Over Harry himself is not circumnavigating North America. But the newest ship in the Royal Canadian Navy, the ship that bears his name, is.
HMCS Harry DeWolf carries his spirit.
In August, the ship left Halifax, Nova Scotia, and headed for the Northwest Passage, passing the hand of Franklin still reaching for the Beaufort Sea.
Along the way, the crew worked with HMCS Goose Bay, Canadian Coast Guard ships, and some Coasties who were far from home.
On D-Day, he wrote to the families of men killed by his side. In July, he stepped on a mine, earned the Legion d'honneur. He jumped into Arnhem, swam across the Rhine to escape.
He never forgot the liberation, the letters.
Charles Scot-Brown died Saturday.
Please remember him.
Charles was one of 673 Canadian officers who volunteered for service with British regiments.
He was a fresh-faced 20-year-old officer staring at his Sergeant who had three medals for bravery.
They were halfway to America when the pilot made an announcement.
“We’ll be landing in Gander, Newfoundland.”
What? Why? Where’s Gander? Newfoundland?
They were on their way home from family trips or military deployments. Others were heading to fashion shows, make-a-wish trips, or business meetings, some to new lives in America.
6,700 people from 95 countries.
The Plane People.
Imagine that moment over the Atlantic.
You don’t have a smartphone or in-flight WiFi. When you land in Gander, information trickles in.
U.S. airspace closed. Planes hijacked.
New York City. The Pentagon. Pennsylvania.
Back in Canada, if you don’t take out the trash, Bert Raccoon might show up with his friends and then you’ll really have problems. Anyway, our folks recently took care of some explosives that were laying around since the Second World War.
In September and November 1942, German U-boats sank four cargo ships near the coast of Newfoundland. More than 60 men perished in the attacks.
The ships carried ammunition, which went down with them. The ships still rest on the bottom of Conception Bay.
This unexploded ordnance poses a threat to divers and marine life, so our folks went to dispose of it properly.