Why I hate war, SS Paul Hamilton explodes with 7000 tons of explosives

The German Junkers torpedo bombers had done their work. But as the various body parts from the Hamilton rained down on the nearby ships of the convoy, no one knew then that details of the incident would be cruelly classified for 50 years.
 
All that the families of these men would ever be told, for that whole time, was…”Missing in action, presumed dead, Mediterranean Theater.” I have a complete alphabetical KIA roster. The military brass did not want to face the families with having to explain to them why they had loaded a troop ship with 7000 tons of explosives and munitions.
 
My mother had married Sgt Leon Miller only about four months prior. He was in the Army Air Corp., photo intelligence, and had assured her he would be safe behind the lines. That was not to be. When she kissed him goodbye at the train station, she would never see him again.
 
When the door bell rang she saw a young boy in a Western Union uniform standing with a telegram. In those days you would rather see the devil himself. It still had not hit her yet until he said the magic words…”Are you Mrs. Leon Miller?” Everything at that moment changed forever. She was...16 years old.
Denial is often the survival instinct for these telegram moments. Mother refused to accept it. She did the best she could to push the grim reaper paper away, and in an impressive way for a young lady said:
 
    “I am sure there is some mistake. My husband has not even gotten over there yet.” The young boy had been trained well, and he did his job. He read the address to her and asked if it were correct, and then, like a prosecuting attorney he asked her again, “Are you Mrs. Leon Miller?” He then he stretched out his hand with the telegram and said, “I’m very sorry.” He had done this many times before. She had not.
 
Stage two of the denial now enters. The young widow sees the only avenue open to her not have this really happen is to still not accept the telegram. She insisted that the boy go back to the Western Union office and double check …she was sure the mistake would be discovered. The young boy left, seeming unhappy that he had failed to do his job. Mother had bough herself a moment’s respite, as she had pushed death away from her doorstep, but not for long.
In a few hours the door bell rang again. The young widow had gathered Leon’s brother and wife from their work. The wife went to the door. Words were mumbled, and she returned to the living room to inform, “He says he has to deliver it to you only.” The denial time was over.
 
Mother went to the door. The young boy, more tense this time, stretched out his arm with the telegram and said, “There’s been no mistake. I’m very sorry.” She remembers to this day, “He had a very sad look on his face…so sad. I felt sorry for him.” The telegram was hers now. She handed it to the brother-in-law and soon heard the next worst sentence of WWII,”The Secretary of the Army regrets to inform you….”
 
The sixty two ships of convoy UGS 38 were off the coast of Algiers on the fateful evening, April 20th. The SS Paul Hamilton was headed for the Anzio bridge head which was surrounded by strong German forces. Our troops were so hard pressed that many of the 504 Army Air Corp men aboard had been retrained in mine demolition work for the planned break out.
 
For more efficient shipping logistics the brass had decided to keep the men and their 7000 tons of explosives together in the same unarmored ship, where one hot tracer round could blow them all to smithereens.
 
Convoys were well protected by that time in the war. The Luftwaffe was no longer attacking them during the day because they would lose too many planes. Their main tactic was the low level torpedo bombing attack timed to strike just after the sun went down. They came in from the coast, using the mountains to mask their radar detection for as long as possible.
 
The screening picket ships finally picked them up on radar and reported the incoming attack but there were communications complications and most ships only found out when the shooting started. The convoy had already at general quarters as standard procedure.
 
There was not much for those on a troopship to do in a situation like this. They were literally along for the ride in a game of high stakes roulette of how would get the torpedoes. Every man on the Paul Hamilton knew that if they were hit no life boats would be necessary. They did not have to suffer a long wait. They were the first hit.
 
As the planes closed on the ships in the post sunset darkness flares were reported being dropped by higher altitude German planes which helped the helped the torpedo bombers pick out ships to make their runs. But the convoy commander’s official report has no mention of flares.
 
Although the first wave of planes attacked the convoy head on, the destroyers in front never opened fire on them. I can only surmise they could not see them in the dark and the planes were by them before they could shoot. A witness on a ship near the Paul Hamilton reported that an alert gunner fired a burst at a crossing plane.
 
This was actually against firing protocol where the armed freighters were only supposed to fire on planes making an attack run on them, so their tracer fire would not expose them in the darkness. The fate of the Hamilton was sealed. Another trailing Junkers had spotted the gunner's tracer fire and began its run on the doomed ship.
 
As the plane bore in all the guns the Hamilton could bring to bare blasted away at it. When the plane did not go down, the gunners knew what that meant…incoming torpedo. The Coast Guard destroyer escort Menges was screening the column that the Hamilton was in, a bit behind it.
 
Combat cameraman Art Green was at his battle station on the Menges fantail where he had a panoramic view. His eyes were drawn to the outgoing fire from the nearby ships, and straining to see any planes in the darken twilight. Suddenly, the sky turned from night to day.
 
The flash stunned everyone. When Green’s eyes reopened he watched the mushroom cloud rise up from what had been the SS Paul Hamilton, and snapped his famous shot. Within a month the photo was being used for war propaganda in American papers and magazines as an example of the risks and carnage involved in getting supplies to the front.
 
The families of the Paul Hamilton KIA’s who happened to see it never knew it was their photo. There are not too many WWII families who have such a morbid memento, but after sixty plus years you take what you can get.
 
Green recounted that the Hamilton explosion lasted six to seven seconds and then everything went dark again. More explosions were heard as four more ships were struck. The destroyer Lansdale was sunk, and the damaged Royal Star sank the next day. Both the damaged Samite M/V and Stephen F. Austen M/V were successfully towed to Algiers. Green saw one plane go down. The gunfire tapered off as the convoy continued on its course into the quiet night with the rear screening destroyers and tug boat assisting the damaged and sinking ships.
 
Only two bodies were recovered and are buried at the Allied cemetery in Algiers. They were identified through fingerprints so those two families had some closure. A search for survivors went on for two days, the search for bodies for a week. The photo and attack reports were flown back to Washington.
 
The brass knew there were no survivors on the Hamilton. They had the photo of what can happen with their hybrid troop and ammo ships. No apologies or explanations were ever forthcoming as to why the whole 50 year classification period was allowed to run. Many of the parents of these KIAs passed away never knowing exactly how their sons died.
 
Mother went on to marry a fighter pilot at 18, my father. She would later bury him...and then collect her third flag in 2004, burying a son, an Army Ranger Colonel, from Agent Orange related causes. She will be 87 in June, frail and stooped over now, but still has a lot of spunk...and she hates war. I share this with you on this day as a peek into some of the reasons why I write what I do. I hate war, too.