OPINION:
LIFELINE ACROSS THE SEA: MERCY SHIPS OF THE SECOND WORLD WAR AND THEIR REPATRIATION MISSIONS
By David L. Williams
The History Press/Trafalgar Square, $32.95, 158 pages, illustrated
It is no exaggeration to say that the years during which World War II raged were some of the worst in human history. For they saw not only huge numbers of military casualties but also unprecedented qualities and quantities of civilian ones, who were victims of everything from starvation to high explosive bombing of cities. And if this were not enough, there was also actual genocide of helpless people when you might have thought that the war effort itself would have been too all-consuming for such ancillary activity. No wonder then, that amid such myriad horrors, historians like to dwell on the positive things that managed to flower, like the indomitable spirit of the bombed-out people in devastated cities and the courage of those who fought so bravely to resist tyranny, which led them to be dubbed “the Greatest Generation.”
In addition to these large themes, there were actual activities going on amid all that mayhem that could bring aid and comfort to a few at least, and this book brings some much-needed attention to a process which has received too little. The eponymous lifeline of mutual repatriation across the sea between bitter enemies of people ranging from diplomats stranded in hostile capitals after sudden declarations of war to badly wounded or otherwise gravely ill POWs seems almost miraculous.
Mr. Williams writes, “Working through neutral intermediaries and conducted under the auspices of the International Red Cross, deals were reached individually between the United Kingdom and each of the Axis belligerents, Germany, Italy and Japan. Likewise, such exchanges were also arranged with the Axis by the United States and other Allied nations. Some thirty or so repatriation missions, derived primarily from the rules of the Geneva Convention, took place during the war, while more than fifty ships were engaged in the highly dangerous work of sailing undefended and invariably alone through hostile waters to deliver their precious human cargoes.”
As someone keenly interested in the various aspects of shipping, photographer and author David L. Williams highlights the various vessels, many of them luxurious passenger liners in happier times, involved in this elaborate process. But although he provides many excellent and evocative photographs of them from many sources and a lot of information about the ships themselves, his book’s primary focus is on these amazing, elaborately staged missions of mercy, each described in absorbing detail.
Two of the most remarkable ones took place in 1942 at the East African port of Lourenco Marques (now Maputo, the capital of Mozambique), then belonging to neutral Portugal. Two ships flying the Japanese flag (one of them chartered from the Italians) brought American diplomats and other civilians caught in the Far East by the attack on Pearl Harbor, while a former Swedish liner under the management of American Export Lines carried their Japanese counterparts. “The physical exchange took place on 23 July and lasted just four hours,” Mr. Williams writes, but he also informs us that it was the culmination of a process that began a week after Dec. 7, 1941, initiated by the United States through the Swiss diplomatic mission in Tokyo. A similar exchange happened two months later in the same harbor, this time between Japan and the United Kingdom, India, Australia and New Zealand. These synchronized sailings halfway across the world must have seemed nothing less than miraculous for those lucky enough to be going home.
Diplomats were one thing, but it is interesting to see how the willingness to exchange wounded or seriously ill prisoners of war mirrored the ebbs and flows of success by the various nations. But the one constant in all these missions is the danger faced by those aboard. As Mr. Williams writes, “the prospect of attack and severe loss of life were a constant cause of anxiety for those involved in these operations.” He details the various steps ranging from the semiotic — bright illuminations of neutral flags in huge letters — to the navigational — sailing a straight course instead of the evasive zigzagging normally used by combatant vessels. Thanks to these and other devices, most of these voyages ended happily. But the chilling accounts here of some the more spectacular disasters, whether by submarine or aerial attack, which led to some of the greatest losses of life in maritime history, make for harrowing reading.
“Lifeline Across the Sea” demonstrates that even in the worst of times, practical efforts to help at least some of those caught up in the maelstrom can succeed thanks to diligent hard work and practical efforts by some well-intentioned people and institutions. As Mr. Williams so aptly writes, “It might reasonably be argued that the endeavors of the mercy ships were no more than a scratch on the surface. But in a conflict as savage and brutal as the Second World War, engulfing every level of humanity, any and every effort that helped to save life, no matter how small, had to be worthwhile . It speaks volumes that the passengers on virtually every one of these ships recalled that the crews exhibited cheerfulness, hospitality and fortitude in the fulfillment of their duties.” Or to put it another way, even in the darkest of times, there can be points of light.
• Martin Rubin is a writer and critic in Pasadena, Calif.
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