HMCS Kamsack was one of the stubby “little ships that saved the day” during the Battle of the Atlantic in the Second World War. In his book War At Sea – A Canadian Seaman on the North Atlantic (Lugus Production Ltd.1990) Frank Curry combines the sweeping saga of the terror of the North Atlantic by winter with the compelling tale of contemporary life aboard a corvette.

It was clear that ultimate victory in Europe depended on an uninterrupted flow of huge convoys between North America and Britain. By the end of 1940 Canada had built the first 14 of 121 corvettes that shouldered the brunt of escorting trans-Atlantic convoys. They were extremely ‘lively’ ships in a heavy sea and said to even “roll on wet grass.”

Manpower became the next priority for the Royal Canadian Navy. There were 12,000 volunteers in navy blue by the end of 1941, 70 per cent of them from inland areas of Ontario, Quebec and the Prairies and had never smelt the sea. Frank Curry from Winnipeg was one of them. The transition from a prairie wheat field to the deck of a sea-going ship had often to be made within 90 days; years had to be telescoped into months.

Upon arriving in Halifax, Curry was issued his hammock; it was to accompany him along with his kit bag and pay book throughout the war. After training as an ASDIC (anti-submarine detection) operator, it was off to Montreal for assignment to a ship. Curry, with about 100 waiting sailors, formed the crew of HMCS Kamsack, a spanking new Flower class corvette at dockside. The 1200-ton (laden), 205-foot ship had just been built in Port Arthur (now Thunder Bay, Ont.). Mustering on the Oka dock alongside their new ship, the captain in a few words to the crew, went through the commissioning ceremony of HMCS Kamsack on 4 Oct. 1941.

After a short shake down period, Kamsack and two other corvettes were ordered to St. John’s Newfoundland at top speed (16 knots) to join the North Atlantic escort groups. Kamsack and her new crew were about to contend with their first exposure to the North Atlantic by winter.

Through the seemingly endless years of sea warfare, the convoys encountered every kind of danger, disaster, and tragedy. An 80-ship convoy would sail unmolested, day after day with never a sign of trouble. And then suddenly a ship would be torpedoed and the terrifying message, “Action Stations!” would resound throughout the corvette. Curry recorded in his diary:

…picked up sub contact at 0220, we spent two hours attacking…dropped five full patterns of charges (40 out of 70 depth charges on board), in pitch dark of storm ridden night. Found our new convoy; it had lost four ships. …Life raft spotted off our port bow; three dead men huddled in life raft.

Once, in the depth of winter, Kamsack was dispatched from St. John’s to search for a torpedoed ship. On exiting the ‘Hole in the Wall’ (the neck into St. John’s harbour) it was met by the full fury of the North Atlantic with winds reaching Force Twelve, hurricane force. Curry describes how the ship plunged head on into the oncoming waves in pitch darkness and bitter cold. The waves broke over the ship from bow to stern. They were awash; decks and mess decks below penetrated by the massive waves, and the crew a thoroughly miserable lot, sick as dogs, and praying for it to be over. It was as if the very ocean was determined to drive their sturdy ship down. Sometimes, when the ship failed to break free from one mountainous wave, and remained buried in the trough, the next monster would crash down on them from high above, and for moments which seemed an eternity, it would appear that the Kamsackjust couldn’t recover, then she would rise, throw off the massive waves, and plunge into the next towering mass of icy water bearing down on them.

Another time Kamsack encountered sub-freezing temperatures and battering seas that soon combined to bring on what all sailors fear most – “white mist.” As the waves broke over the ship, great sheets of seawater and icy spray covered every inch of the ship, reaching the top of the tall mainmast. Sheets of ice rapidly formed over everything. Each crashing wave brought another coating of ice. The four-inch gun, the fo’c’sle, the entire bridge and the main deck became one massive block of ice, feet thick. Nothing escaped the “”white mist.”

In grave danger, everyone pitched in to break the icy grip that was rapidly overcoming the ship. Fire axes, sledgehammers, crowbars, belaying pins and carpenters’ hammers were used to chip and dislodge chunks of ice. Even baseball bats were added to the arsenal. The struggle was to keep Kamsack from capsizing before reaching port. And make it they did! At 0200 hrs, they finally came into the lee of land off the long approaches to Sydney; there, they found respite from the gales and release from the deadly ice.

Curry wrote: Later in the morning, as we struggled awake to see the ice-encrusted Kamsack sparkling in the brilliant sunshine, we were amazed to think that she could carry such a load and still stay afloat. We also felt for the first time, the mystic bond between a ship and her crew, a bond achieved only through surviving the toughest challenges together.

Epilogue. Frank Curry went to HMCS Caraquet in 1943 and the D-Day landings. He kept a diary (against the rules) of his experiences throughout the war. It was the basis of his book, giving one of the rare descriptions of life below decks aboard small ships. The diary now rests in splendid isolation in the National Archives of Canada. Kamsack was paid off on 22 July 1945 and sold to Venezuela. The ship’s bell, keg and nameplate were presented to its namesake, the Town of Kamsack, Sask.

Each year on the first Sunday of May, Canadians continue to remember the 24 warships and more than 2,000 sailors, the 900 aircrew and 350 aircraft and the 70 merchant ships and 1700 seamen, lost in the Battle of the Atlantic. 

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