A visit from Franz

During the years of WWII the life saving establishment was still a vital service provided to mariners sailing the waters around the dangerous sand banks that make up Sable Island,

When the lifesaving station was operating there were no light keepers per se, at the west or east lights. The lights were manned on a rotational basis by members of the life boat crew. Two men would do a two week stint at each of the lights.

A good friend of mine, the late Harold Stoddard, of Head of Jeddore, was a young member of the life boat crew in the early 1940’s. After spending some years on the Island he came ashore and continued his career with the Dept. of Transport at Dartmouth Base. At the time of his retirement he was driving a boom truck dropping supplies off at various points around the coast to be delivered to the lights by helicopter. Harold related the following to me one day over a drink or two of rum.

“ Me and Clayton Williams was down on the East Light for our two week hitch as keepers. This was good, because it got us away from the main station  and away from Charlie Faulkner ( the superintendent ) and his everlasting boat drills.”

“ We was sitting in the kitchen one evening at the table playin’ crib. Clayton had just been up to have a check on the light,  and I made tea while he was gone. “ When he come back, we decided to put the cards away for the night, get a bite to eat and set the watches.” ( 24/7 watch kept on the light and the weather; when the weather shut in the fog alarm was put in operation . )

“ So I poured the tea, while Clayton opened a can of bully beef, and got out some moldy bread that the cook at the main station had given us to take down with us for our hitch. “ “ Well,   it wasn’t stale when we left the main but we was in our second week and the bread was in a state were it had to have the mildew trimmed off every time you’d cut a slice.”

Harold paused im his narrative and took a swig of his drink,   lit a smoke and said.   “ We  knowed  the Germans was a-devilin’ around the Island, because most days out to the sou’ ard the depth charges and the torpedoes was a steady bombardment, and you could see the smoke rising out over the horizon.  T’was  enough to shake you right out of your bunk, most days. “

“ Well, Clayton and I had just start to eat, when all of a sudden the kitchen door opened and in walked four Germans in uniform; they said good evening to us, and asked if they could join us for a cup of tea. “  “ We said yes, and I put the kettle on agin to boil more water. “

“ The officer that was in charge of them had perfect English and he did all the talkin.’ Said they had landed on the Spit, just below the light in a rubber dinghy; thought they’d come ashore and have a look at the light. “ He complimented us on the light and said it was a great help to them when they was workin’ around the eastern end of the Island and off to the sou’ard, you know. “

“ Well,  they had their tea, and a smoke, him ( the officer ) talkin’ to us in English and translatin’ it to the other guys in German. After about an hour, he said they’d better be gettin’ back aboard.” They gave what cigarettes they had on  them  and went  out the door

Harold poured himself another drink and continued, “ When they was in the doorway on their way out, the officer looked at us and said, “ It’s no use to try and call the main station; we cut your lines in four places before we came in and let your horses go free. We bid you a good evening gentlemen, please continue to keep the light shining brightly.”  They disappeared into the night walking down toward where they had the dinghy hauled up on the sand.

Harold and Clayton didn’t have long to wait for help, as the main station called the east and west lights, plus the intermediate stations ( there were two ) every four hours for a routine check, and when there was no response from the east light at 2200 hrs., the super was advised and sent out a couple of men on horse back to see what the problem might be.   By the time they had rode the seventeen miles to the east light, Harold and Clayton had the cut telephone lines repaired and were in contact with the main station; who, in turn, alerted Halifax.

Whether or not the U-boat was apprehended, Harold couldn’t say, but did allow that there was more air activity than usual around the Island the next few days.

Eastern Air Command did catch one U-boat in the shoal water in the bight of the Island, the boat was submerged, but showed up big time against the sandy bottom. When the water is clear the rusty sand  donating her resting place is plain to be seen.

Although U-boat activity was intense of our shores during WWII, they didn’t bother the aids to navigation. They could have wrought havoc with the lights by shelling, but no hostile overtures were made. Sambro Lightship stayed on station throughout hostilities, and come through unscathed. U-190 was in close proximity to the lightship when she sank HMCS Esquimalt with a single Gnat torpedo, making her the last Canada naval vessel to be sunk by enemy action in WWII, and causing the death by exposure of Drum Head native Huntley Fanning.


Sydney, N.S.,
February 06 2007.