Isleford explosion 80 years ago 'could have destroyed Wick harbour'
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Eighty years ago this week the Merchant Navy vessel Isleford foundered in a ferocious winter storm in Wick Bay with the loss of all its crew. Horrified onlookers peered helplessly through the darkness as the ship broke in two after being battered against the rocks below Proudfoot.
It was a harrowing scene, with one eyewitness describing how the vessel was "tossed to and fro like a cork" while some of the doomed seafarers screamed and roared for assistance that would never come.
And yet the consequences of that wartime tragedy could have been incalculably worse for the Wick community, according to Mike Coupland, secretary and treasurer of the Caithness branch of the Merchant Navy Association.
Those who stood and watched the ship's last moments from their vantage points along the North Head that wild January night didn't know it at the time, but the Isleford was loaded with ammunition. And Mr Coupland believes that had the whole cargo been engulfed in an explosion then the harbour and parts of Pulteneytown could have been obliterated.
The Isleford continues to be commemorated, and eight years ago a plaque was placed on the wreck itself. Over the years many reminders of its demise have come to light – in the shape of munitions that went down with the fleet auxiliary ship only to resurface and create a potential hazard.
There have been stories of divers coming across unexploded devices while investigating the wreck site, leading to bomb disposal experts having to be called in. Shell casings from the Isleford are among the artefacts at the nearby World War II pillbox museum.
The 150ft Isleford was an Admiralty-owned, civilian-manned naval armament vessel that had been built by the Ardrossan Dry Dock and Shipbuilding Company in 1912. Late on the night of January 24, 1942, it developed engine trouble and was driven onto the rocks at Wick's North Head.
Conditions were so severe that it was not possible to launch the local lifeboat. The rocket apparatus team turned out but were unable to get a line aboard.
A searchlight picked out the beleaguered Isleford in what was described by local author Norman Glass as “a seething mass of broken water with mountainous waves dashing on the shores”.
Mr Coupland said: “It was a horrendous storm. It was snowing. They'd got engine trouble and they knew they were heading for Wick harbour. They were trying to get into refuge and got caught on the rocks.
“It was in the bay below the houses. The community at the time saw it happen and there was nothing they could do.
"The rescue squad got lights on it and there were people clinging to the mast. They just couldn't get to them, and they saw them go one after another.
"They tried everything – they couldn't fire rockets to get a line to them. And to watch people just being swept away... I don't think they recovered all the bodies.
“There is also the fact that at the time they didn't know she was an ammunition ship. She could have gone up.
“Can you imagine? To be that close to the houses, with the cliffs behind to reflect the explosion, it would have destroyed Wick harbour – literally. All that bottom end of Pulteneytown would have gone.
"They were just trying to help and watching, with minimum light, but they didn't know what she was carrying. She was carrying mines as well.
“It could have been so much worse. It gets remembered permanently because the ammunition still keeps getting washed up, the fact that everybody saw it happen and couldn't help, and the underlying thought that it could have taken Wick with it.”
Fifteen names are engraved on a commemorative plaque unveiled in 2011 at Kirkhill, opposite Wick St Fergus Church. The captain was David Foalle; two of the victims, Sydney Davis and Harry Rowe, are listed as “Boy”.
Every September, to mark Merchant Navy Day, a wreath from the Merchant Navy Association is placed between the Isleford plaque and another at Kirkhill honouring the Caithness men who died when the Jervis Bay was sunk by the German ship Admiral Scheer in 1940.
There has been some debate over the route of the Isleford, and whether it was heading from Invergordon to Scapa Flow or in the other direction.
Only two bodies were recovered after conditions improved the following morning. A massive operation was launched to recover mines and shells that drifted ashore from the sunken vessel – although parts of the cargo would continue to emerge for years to come, and in some instances would find their way into the hands of inquisitive local youngsters.
"She must have been going north with supplies," Mr Coupland said. “The diving lads have photographs and videos of what's on the seabed. There's everything from machine-gun ammunition to the big heavy shells.
“Periodically, if stuff washes up on the shore, the Navy will come up and it still goes with a bang when they destroy it.
“Half the youngsters at the time had ammunition from there. There was a round-up from the schools in the 1960s because kids were taking stuff to school that was still live.
“We've now reached a point where most of the casings have rusted away and the stuff is harmless.”
In 2005, a group of 27 Merchant Navy veterans took part in a wreath-laying ceremony that was reportedly the first formal memorial to the men and boys who perished on the Isleford.
In 2014 there was a further commemoration, this time underwater, organised by Wick RNLI together with Merchant Navy Association members. Three divers – Mark Cormack, Neil Pellow and Martin Gill, who were all members of the Wick lifeboat crew – laid a memorial plaque on the wreckage alongside a Red Ensign, the flag of the Merchant Navy. The divers go back down each year to polish the plaque.
One of the most vivid and moving accounts of the tragedy was given by local woman Margaret Christie, who was among those that had ventured out into the storm to see the disaster unfold. She was a 19-year-old laundry worker at the time.
Speaking in 2005, Mrs Christie – then in her eighties – recalled: “It was terrible. I have never seen anything like it in my life. The boat was being tossed to and fro like a cork.
“There were two or three men who had climbed into the rigging which was being pounded by the waves. They were screaming and roaring out of them. More seas struck in quick succession and they were gone. It was horrendous.
“The experience was imprinted on my mind. There was an eerie hush in the crowd. I think there was a general feeling of helplessness and anguish that we were so close to those in peril, yet could do anything to save them. It was devastating.”
