The unforgiving sea holds tales that remain long after the world above has forgotten them. As I plunge into the Atlantic from the stern of a 42-foot cruiser called Mermaid, the sharp chill jolts me. Pulsing and vibrant, lion’s mane jellyfish drift by, trailing endless tendrils of pink and white.
Slowly, the ghostly form of the SS Saganaga appears in the depths, upright and sitting on its keel in 120 feet of water. Its masts and spars, cloaked in a spray of filter-feeding life, are a vivid testament to the sea’s enduring bounty. I swim toward the silent deck gun, still aimed outward toward the ocean’s eternal blue. Formerly a symbol of deadly force, the barrel is now sprouting a colourful bouquet of anemones.
In the fall of 1942, German submarines navigated the waters of the Bell Island Tickle – a narrow strait just 20 kilometres from downtown St. John’s – to torpedo iron-ore-carrying vessels critical to Allied shipbuilding efforts. Over decades, the rusted remains of these sunken ships have transformed into vibrant living reefs. As I continue to explore, I see a crusty rock crab nestling among a tangle of shell casings, and a small striped shrimp darting from beneath an old phonograph record, thriving in this unlikely sanctuary.
Though few Canadians know about the attacks that sank four vessels and took 70 sailors’ lives, Newfoundlanders reverently keep this history alive. Ethel Rees recalls her mother nursing wounded sailors on their kitchen table in Lance Cove. Inspired by this legacy, Ethel’s grandson Daniel, a diver and nautical archeologist, now serves as a rural physician in Clarenville, N.L., carrying forward this tradition of care.
For 25 years, a dive team led by Rick Stanley, owner of OceanQuest Adventures, has carried out the solemn honour of placing a Remembrance Day wreath on the wrecks. This year, diver John Olivero takes the lead, descending to secure a wreath and red poppies on the Free French vessel PLM 27. His Royal Navy grandfather helped install radar systems that ultimately curtailed U-boat supremacy – a legacy of service that brings Mr. Olivero pride.
These events hold lasting significance in Canada’s history. Yet perhaps what matters most are not the dates or names, but rather the unshakable legacy of sacrifice. As I travel the world in my role as explorer-in-residence for the Royal Canadian Geographical Society, that legacy resonates as I visit a Liberty ship submerged in the Azores’ Ponta Delgada harbour, or find boots and motorcycles stowed in the hold of the SS Thistlegorm, a British cargo ship sunk in the Red Sea in 1941. These are not merely relics, but enduring reminders of the sacrifices underpinning our freedom. In a world engulfed by political tensions, these silent war vessels remind us of the vigilance required to protect that freedom – a task more urgent now than ever.
