Murmansk
Vance Murray
HMS Oliver: We left Scapa Flow on September 14th, 1941, bringing dry goods to the Soviet Union. Things went as planned, and we were on time when we pulled into a city near Tromso to refuel, before making the final stretch to Murmansk, we finally lost any sight of land, and a great fog set in. We were not scared, however, since this was what we had expected.
September 30th, 1941: Still no sight of land.
October 1st, 1941: We should have hit land days ago. The officers began arguing about the ship's direction, but they all agreed that if we kept going south, we must hit land. So, we kept going south, and we kept seeing no land.
October 5th, 1941: The arguing had spread to the entire crew. They all had answers, some said we should head back west towards port, we should head east towards Archangelsk, or we must be near port; we need to continue south. However, nobody could explain why we haven't seen land.
October 8th, 1941: We kept south and still saw no land.
October 8th, 1941: The fighting only got more severe; they kept saying the same things. We've been heading south for so long; we should have been to Moscow by now. Eventually, those who thought we should go west would not speak to those who wanted to go east, and those who wanted to go south wouldn't talk.
October 9th, 1941: Some men who believed we should go east broke into port cabin, grabbed the men inside, and locked them into the boiler room. We began heading east.
October 11th, 1941: Those who wanted to go west were kept near the back of the ship and had men running guards halfway across the ship. Eventually, the men who wanted to go west did the same. I was forced onto the east side and could not pass.
October 13th, 1941: At about seven in the afternoon, we saw the sun for the first time in weeks, and the warm air hit us. It was the most horrifying thing imaginable. Terror spread throughout the ship; nobody knew where we could be. Those who wanted to go west pushed past the guards and took control of the boat, locking them into the boiler room with the others. We began heading west.
October 16th, 1941: The clouds did not come back. They insisted that if we kept heading west, it was impossible for us not to hit land. While being delivered food and water, the men held within the boiler room tried to push out of there. The men locked inside hit the guards with metal tools and pipes. However, they were eventually forced back into the boiler room. They stopped delivering them food and water.
October 21st, 1941: It just got hotter. I saw the men once again begin to argue; everyone had an answer for where we should go. The terrible cycle began again. I don't know who started it, but before I knew it, the ship was overwhelmed by vicious fighting. It became a brutal struggle for survival, and I joined in, trying to save myself. Eventually, it ended, and nobody was standing except me.
October 22nd, 1941: After consideration and realizing nobody above deck would survive, I decided to release the men in the boiler room. However, I was struck by the most horrifying smell when I opened the door. After a moment, I went in to see if anyone had survived, but they did not.
October 27th, 1941: Something broke, or we ran out of fuel, but the ship stopped a few days ago. Now I'm just waiting.
It started snowing.
It’s so lonely, drifting here.
It’s so cold.
I can’t take it.
Help.
Why?
So cold?
September 30th, 1941: Still no sight of land.
October 1st, 1941: We should have hit land days ago. The officers began arguing about the ship's direction, but they all agreed that if we kept going south, we must hit land. So, we kept going south, and we kept seeing no land.
October 5th, 1941: The arguing had spread to the entire crew. They all had answers, some said we should head back west towards port, we should head east towards Archangelsk, or we must be near port; we need to continue south. However, nobody could explain why we haven't seen land.
October 8th, 1941: We kept south and still saw no land.
October 8th, 1941: The fighting only got more severe; they kept saying the same things. We've been heading south for so long; we should have been to Moscow by now. Eventually, those who thought we should go west would not speak to those who wanted to go east, and those who wanted to go south wouldn't talk.
October 9th, 1941: Some men who believed we should go east broke into port cabin, grabbed the men inside, and locked them into the boiler room. We began heading east.
October 11th, 1941: Those who wanted to go west were kept near the back of the ship and had men running guards halfway across the ship. Eventually, the men who wanted to go west did the same. I was forced onto the east side and could not pass.
October 13th, 1941: At about seven in the afternoon, we saw the sun for the first time in weeks, and the warm air hit us. It was the most horrifying thing imaginable. Terror spread throughout the ship; nobody knew where we could be. Those who wanted to go west pushed past the guards and took control of the boat, locking them into the boiler room with the others. We began heading west.
October 16th, 1941: The clouds did not come back. They insisted that if we kept heading west, it was impossible for us not to hit land. While being delivered food and water, the men held within the boiler room tried to push out of there. The men locked inside hit the guards with metal tools and pipes. However, they were eventually forced back into the boiler room. They stopped delivering them food and water.
October 21st, 1941: It just got hotter. I saw the men once again begin to argue; everyone had an answer for where we should go. The terrible cycle began again. I don't know who started it, but before I knew it, the ship was overwhelmed by vicious fighting. It became a brutal struggle for survival, and I joined in, trying to save myself. Eventually, it ended, and nobody was standing except me.
October 22nd, 1941: After consideration and realizing nobody above deck would survive, I decided to release the men in the boiler room. However, I was struck by the most horrifying smell when I opened the door. After a moment, I went in to see if anyone had survived, but they did not.
October 27th, 1941: Something broke, or we ran out of fuel, but the ship stopped a few days ago. Now I'm just waiting.
It started snowing.
It’s so lonely, drifting here.
It’s so cold.
I can’t take it.
Help.
Why?
So cold?
Vance Murray is a Senior at NMMI. After finally graduating he wishes to commission as an officer in the Marine Corps.