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Writer's pictureTango Sierra

Glasgow 1: Crossing the Atlantic

Updated: Jun 6, 2023

Aside from the mention in my grandfather’s memoir, I chose to visit Glasgow for a couple reasons: First, I’ve traveled extensively in Ireland and have been to Great Britain once but have never traveled to Scotland. Second, Glasgow doesn't get enough credit for the ciritcal role it served in WWII. Third, when deploying there’s something about stepping off a plane (or boat) onto foreign soil, knowing you have a long and difficult task ahead, with unknowable impacts to your life, that sears that place into memory. The task has officially started and whatever denial or doubts remain must be reconciled. It’s time to get to work. For me and many of my service generation, those places were in the Middle East. For my grandfather, it was Glasgow.

Getting forces to Glasgow, or anywhere in the UK, was a treacherous mission and major logistical challenge in the early 1940s. The Germans had successfully used submarines to sink many Allied ships in WWI. The sinking of the Lusitania may ring a historical bell. However, after the Treaty of Versailles in 1919, Germany was prohibited from having unterwasser boats, as well as tanks, but Hitler ignored all that starting in 1935 and by 1939 the German U-boat fleet was stronger and more high-tech than ever with over 50 submarines. (Quick note, while I don’t condone the German response to the Treaty of Versailles and don’t want to devalue the atrocities of trench warfare in WWI, I will state it was not a fair peace agreement.)


By early 1940, Germany controlled ports from northern Norway to western France, establishing the Atlantic Wall. The surrounding waters turned into free-range U-boat hunting ground. Between late 1940 and early 1941, each U-boat sank an average of eight merchant ships per month. By early 1942, the Nazis had roughly 140 U-boats in service. They were roaming the whole Atlantic and on occasion swinging into the Gulf of Mexico to attack merchant shipping lanes. Approximately 1,200 American merchant marines perished from U-boat attacks.



The Allied answer was faster troop/supply ships and more escort boats/airplanes surrounding the heart of the convoy. Sea convoys were so effective that by 1943 Karl Donitz, the commander of the Nazi naval fleet, ordered all U-boats to retreat to the Indian Ocean. They didn’t return to Atlantic waters until 1944 when they could operate deeper and stay under longer with snorkel ventilation tubes. But by then, the Allies had a decent stranglehold on the Axis powers and they were already starting to constrict. Even with better freedom of movement on the seas in 1943, there was still the logistical matter of getting everyone across the Atlantic… they’re gonna need a bigger boat (and more of them!).


Precise logistical information on trans-Atlantic troop crossings is limited because the Army deliberately destroyed all core and affiliated records, to include convoy numbers, names of all the ships used, and ship manifests, in 1951. This makes general research on this topic hard and specific research into the name of the boat my grandfather crossed on impossible. Fortunately, based on his memoir and discharge paperwork, I know the liner and its crew were French and it was a large ship that previously hosted stage-worthy entertainment. He departed New York, NY on 18 Jan 1945 and arrived in Glasgow, Scotland on 28 Jan 1945. I combined this information with the limited repository of a fellow researcher, whose pursuit was to rebuild much of the information that was lost in 1951. I believe my grandpa most likely crossed on the Île de France.


Île de France before the war.


Like many troop ships of the era, including the renowned British sister ships Queen Elizabeth and Queen Mary, the Île de France was an opulent luxury liner that was built during the global economic boom in the 1930’s. It was the first ship decorated exclusively in the trademark 1930’s Art Deco style. What it lacked in speed and size, the Île de France made up for with sheer bling and drip. She also had a sister, the Normandie, that carried more passengers and crossed the Atlantic faster. When the war broke out in 1939, these ships were moved to New York from Britain and France in the hopes they would be spared from German destruction. For the first few years of the war, they sat collecting barnacles in NY Harbor with the anticipation of a swift end to the war.




Île de France (left) and her sister Normandie (right). Normandie was transferred to the US Navy and renamed Lafayette in 1941 but never served during the war. While undergoing troopship conversion, Lafayette caught fire and capsized at Pier 88 in NY Harbor on 2 Feb 1942. She was finally righted 7 Aug 1943, but then immediately sold for scrap.


As the war drug on into its third year, two things became obvious: 1) it was politically and existentially necessary for the US to enter the war; and 2) the scale of the German invasion and rate of Allied casualties demanded a massive commitment of troops from the North American continent. The Allies were now in dire need of a way to transport hundreds of thousands of replacement and supplemental troops from Canada and the US across the Atlantic. Necessity brings life to invention and death to extravagance. The stagnant luxury liners were stripped of most of their pre-war opulence (chandeliers, hand carved wood paneling, gilded details, paintings, and mirrors, etc), retrofitted with additional bunks in sleeping quarters and tables in dining rooms, and had their high contrast hulls repainted to the most unremarkable shade of gray to help conceal them from U-boats.


Île de France with her war-time coloring.


Twelve bunks occupying the space where one bed used to be in a first class cabin aboard the Queen Mary.


War-time dining hall aboard the Queen Mary. Even stripped down, some of the finery remains because it would have cost more to remove absolutely everything. For the record, this is 3000% nicer than a tent DFAC (dining facility).


Once they were safely across the Atlantic, troop and supply ships would head to one of the many deep-water ports the Clyde river offers. These ports were less susceptible to attack from the open Atlantic and many had railroad access that made moving heavy equipment (tanks, trucks, planes, etc.) to the southern UK easier and faster. For these reasons, almost every port along the Clyde was used during the war. This included Gourock, Port Glasgow, Greenoch/Grennock, and Firth of Clyde. The destination for all troops and equipment headed to these ports was the same: Glasgow. Glasgow served as the main logistical hub prior to D-Day. Without it, Operations NEPTUNE & OVERLORD, and ultimately Allied victory, would have been severely delayed or may never have happened at all. Tactics maketh battle but logistics maketh war.


Modern-day, redeveloped portion of Port Glasgow. Left is the Finnieston Crane which operated from 1932 until the docks it serviced were closed in 1969 (area has since been redeveloped as seen in this photo). It is 175 feet high and could lift 175 tons. It was mainly used to place locomotives and railcars onto ships for export prior to the war. Right is the Clyde Arc Bridge, known to Glaswegians as the "squinty bridge" because of its caddy-corner/off-kilter suspension system.


A relevant closing fact: American loss of life in major wars from 1775 to present numbers over 1.3 million. I hope you do whatever you desire today with the freedom we have as Americans, just know the bill is covered. Happy Memorial Day!

Tango Sierra out.

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