Joseph N. Mazzara
LIBERTY SHIP SURVIVOR: Why Ray Laenen is so Proud to be an American
Liberty Ship Survivor is the compelling tale of one man’s journey from Belgian immigrant to proud and patriotic American citizen. Over 100 photographs support his incredible tales of courage, survival, faith, friendship and forgiveness.
Remie “Ray” Laenen’s parents brought him to America from Oevel, Belgium in 1927, in search of freedom and opportunity. The family settled on the East Side of Detroit. After graduating from St. Rose High School in 1944, Ray immediately went into the United States Army, where he would learn a life-defining lesson about the true cost of freedom.
On February 6, 1945, Ray’s life was changed forever. His Liberty Ship was sunk in the Indian Ocean by torpedoes from a German U-boat. He survived an incredible twenty-two day ordeal in a crowded lifeboat, only to return to service more determined than ever to defend America’s freedom.
When the war ended, Ray went about the business of carving out his piece of the American Dream. Fifty years after the sinking of the SS Peter Silvester, Ray and his wife Norma traveled to Germany to meet and forgive the very men who had sunk his ship.
This is the story of the making of an American Patriot.
Joe Mazzara is a Detroit Area Psychologist and freelance writer. In addition to Liberty Ship Survivor, he is also the author of the memoir, Pedal Cars and Purple Pickles (AuthorHouse, 2001). He has published articles in several magazines and newspapers, including Acoustic Guitar Magazine, The Open Exhaust and The Michigan Catholic. In his free time, he writes yet-to-be-published fiction, as well as an ongoing column called From the Back Pew for his local church paper, the St. Valerie of Ravenna Valerian. He currently teaches Psychology at Macomb Community College in his hometown of Clinton Township, Michigan. He and his wife Cindy have two children, Mark and Kate.
With most of the other men already evacuated, Laenen, and Morawski lowered themselves into a remaining lifeboat. The ship was heaving and thrashing about like a wounded whale as metal ladders and nets crashed heavily against the hull. With no other choice, Ray and Tom hung on for dear life, and climbed down to the lifeboat.
As they entered the boat, they realized that someone had left the petcock open and the lifeboat was rapidly sinking. It was nearly submerged and still tethered to the sinking SS Peter Silvester. They briefly considered whether they should close the petcock and attempt to bail the boat out, but feared that the lifeboat would be sucked down with the ship before they could render it seaworthy. Ray vividly remembered films from his training, that showed that a sinking ship would create a water vacuum and pull anybody or anything that was nearby, down with the ship. There was no time to waste. Tom and Ray jumped into the dark, oily sea and swam through debris toward the dim, bobbing lights of another lifeboat that floated about fifty yards from the sinking ship.
It would be hard to imagine a more terrifying swim. In the darkness, Ray kept his eyes on the dancing lights as he swam toward the other lifeboat. He nearly choked on the thick oil that floated in globs on the surface of the otherwise placid Indian Sea. As he swam, he passed other men in the water, some alive, some not. Amidst the flotsam, Ray threaded his way through a gantlet of frantic, thrashing mules. Some mules had already drowned, while others tried furiously to tread water. The plaintive screams of the dying mules echoed through the night, the dreadful sound deeply scarring another dark place in Ray Laenen’s memory.
When Ray reached the other lifeboat, he found it packed with over thirty men. A second boat, containing only a few men, was partially submerged and tethered by rope to the first boat. It also looked to be in danger of sinking. Ray was helped into the more crowded boat, safe at last for the time being. As he entered the boat, he was relieved to see the face of his good friend Tom Tschirhart, already aboard. Amazingly, Tom Morawski soon climbed into the same boat.
Meanwhile, Don Tuthill and Chuck Kemmer swam through the muck and tried to enter the same lifeboat. At first, the men would not let Tuthill into the boat because it was already overcrowded. Don was still bleeding profusely, and feared that his own blood would attract sharks. Eventually, the men relented and allowed Tuthill to climb into the boat. Chuck Kemmer was not so lucky. He remained in the water, hanging desperately to the side of the lifeboat throughout the entire night. He was not alone. He now recalls, “There were a lot of us in the water that first night.”
Some of the mules tried to climb into the lifeboats and had to be beaten off with oars and fists. If even one mule had climbed over the gunwale, it would have meant disaster for the men inside the boat. Still, it broke the hearts of these young men to watch the mules eventually give up and slip helplessly below the oil-soaked surface of the waves.
About fifteen to twenty minutes after the second round of torpedoes hit, another explosion rocked the wounded vessel. This third and last attack was the most violent, reportedly lifting the bow section clean out of the water. The official Army report of the incident suggests that this third explosion may have been caused by two more torpedoes or possibly by the deck mounted guns of the U-862. In either case, the damage was done, and the bow section of the SS Peter Silvester plunged deep beneath the surface of the sea.
