Thursday, August 31, 2006
Defending a hero.
We live in a world that tosses the word “hero” around rather casually. A girl falls down a well and gets pulled out again, and suddenly she’s called a hero. Private Jessica Lynch is taken prisoner in Iraq, held for a while, and then rescued…and she’s called a hero. I have nothing but sympathy for her plight and I harbor no ill thoughts toward her, but to call her a hero? A victim, I would say. The real hero would be whoever coordinated her rescue – I don’t even know who that was.
Of course, there are real heroes. The September 11, 2001, firefighters and police, the passengers on Flight 93 – actually a lot of heroes emerged that day. Catastrophe tends to do that.
But at the same time, even as we canonize any garbageman who has the sense to slam on the breaks to avoid hitting a little girl in the middle of the road, sometimes we seek to smear the reputation of real heroes.
In the past several days I have been arguing – with openmouthed astonishment – about the merits of Charles Herbert Lightoller, a sailor who lived from 1874 to 1952. My astonishment comes from the fact that I’ve come across numerous people who not only deny that Mr. Lightoller was a hero, but in fact refer to him as a coward and a moron!
It is impossible to cite in great detail the many adventures and courageous exploits of this old-time mariner, but here are some highlights. As soon as he went to sea at the age of 13, he distinguished himself quickly to his superiors, throwing himself into a job he loved, even though for four years he received no pay. When his ship, the Holt Hill, was shipwrecked on remote, inhospitable Saint George Island, Lightoller, the youngest and most inexperienced crew member on board, showed more endurance than many of his older shipmates, and provided much counsel to his despondent captain, the colorful Jock Sutherland, who had taken a liking to the enthusiastic young sailor.
Some years later, when he was assigned to the Pacifique, one of the first iron sailing ships, a fire broke out below decks after the cargo was jostled by a hurricane. For days it appeared the ship would not reach shore before pressure from the heat below would blow out plates and sink the ship. Lightoller went alone with the captain on a dangerous expedition into hostile territory in order the negotiate for an offload of the burning cargo.
After a bad bout of malaria he decided to leave the sea and go prospecting for gold in the American West. Though his expedition met with no success, he dynamically led his group as nature threw one obstacle after another in their way. Ingeniously he plotted a path through a raging, overflowing river, saving several of his friends from certain doom when they became trapped in the middle of the torrent.
Most famously, Lightoller was stationed as First Officer of the famous luxury liner Titanic in 1912. Though bumped down to Second Officer in a last-minute staffing shuffle, Lightoller was placed in charge of the evacuation of the ship’s port side after the Titanic struck an iceberg and began to sink. Lightoller has been criticized for his strict interpretation of the “women and children first” rule, which he interpreted as “women and children only,” and some allege that many lives were lost as a result. But Lightoller remained at his position until the ship sank under him, at which time he was dragged under against an engine grate. He was luckily blown free by an explosion below, and managed to grab ahold of a lifeboat floating upside-down nearby. About twenty men reached that upside-down boat, and as a swell blew up at dawn Lightoller led them in balancing the boat to keep it afloat until one of the other lifeboats spotted them and picked them up.
When the First World War broke out, the ships of the White Star Line were compelled into military service. The ship Lightoller was serving aboard by then, the Oceanic, ended up running aground on a reef. Once again Lightoller was in the position of loading and lowering lifeboats as the ship sank beneath him. After losing the Oceanic, his favorite ship, he joined the British Navy.
He ascended to command a small ship designated HMTB 117. During this tenure, he prevented an air attack on London by firing shells revealing the position of an enemy dirigible. After HMTB-117 was torpedoed by a U-Boat, and Lightoller once again had to evacuate a sinking ship, he was given command of the H.M.S. Falcon, where he undertook a single-minded quest to destroy German U-Boats. For over a year he was unsuccessful, but finally he did ram and sink a U-Boat that had torpedoed one of the ships in his convoy.
After the war he temporarily returned to the White Star Line, but resigned when it was apparent that the company intended to stonewall his career due to his association with the infamous Titanic. His family survived by running a boarding house; the effort was successful enough that Lightoller bought a yacht, the Sundowner. At the onset a World War II, Lightoller and his wife Sylvia undertook a spy mission, navigating the Sundowner through German waters to report what they saw to British intelligence.
But perhaps Lightoller’s most spectacular adventure was near the end of the war, when the Navy confiscated the Sundowner to evacuate soldiers from Dunkirk. Lightoller would not abide handing his beloved yacht over to someone else, so he elected to undertake the dangerous mission himself. His youngest son, Roger, accompanied him. Steering into heavy German gunfire, Lightoller eluded the bombs and shells by anticipating the enemy’s movements and using the boat’s small size to his advantage. He reached Dunkirk successfully and crammed the boat full to twice its capacity, then navigated his way out again though German gunfire. On reaching safety, Lightoller unloaded his human cargo . . . then turned the boat around to do it all again! Altogether he saved 131 British soldiers.
A coward and a moron? Well, if by moron you mean caution-to-the-winds determination to save lives, and if possible the ship too, yeah, Lightoller’s a moron. Coward?? Read the preceding paragraph.
Evidently Lightoller’s strict and inflexible behavior aboard the Titanic has made up people’s minds about him, notably filmmaker James Cameron, who has stated audaciously that Lightoller was NOT a hero. This attitude reflects a misconception about the man and indeed the time of the Titanic disaster. It’s important to remember that Lightoller was not aware that the ship was sinking. He knew it was damaged and flooding, but thought the watertight bulkheads would keep the ship afloat. It was only once he had launched most of the boats that he realized the ship was really going to sink. He was also unaware that the lifeboats were new and tested overweight, and didn’t want to risk buckling them by trying to lower them with a full load. Undoubtedly he would have acted differently had communication aboard ship been handled better. Furthermore, “women and children first” was the unwritten law of the sea at that time. He had very little difficulty keeping the men out of the boats. A gentleman simply did not save his own life until he was sure all the women were safe. Almost every man who survived the disaster was compelled to explain himself. Many, including company president J. Bruce Ismay, were effectively ruined by the mere fact of their survival. Lightoller was not among these, for he never left the ship. As he said at the disaster hearings, the ship left him. I challenge Mr. Cameron – and anyone else alive today, myself included – to live half as worthwhile a life as Mr. Lightoller.
Of course, there are real heroes. The September 11, 2001, firefighters and police, the passengers on Flight 93 – actually a lot of heroes emerged that day. Catastrophe tends to do that.
But at the same time, even as we canonize any garbageman who has the sense to slam on the breaks to avoid hitting a little girl in the middle of the road, sometimes we seek to smear the reputation of real heroes.
In the past several days I have been arguing – with openmouthed astonishment – about the merits of Charles Herbert Lightoller, a sailor who lived from 1874 to 1952. My astonishment comes from the fact that I’ve come across numerous people who not only deny that Mr. Lightoller was a hero, but in fact refer to him as a coward and a moron!
It is impossible to cite in great detail the many adventures and courageous exploits of this old-time mariner, but here are some highlights. As soon as he went to sea at the age of 13, he distinguished himself quickly to his superiors, throwing himself into a job he loved, even though for four years he received no pay. When his ship, the Holt Hill, was shipwrecked on remote, inhospitable Saint George Island, Lightoller, the youngest and most inexperienced crew member on board, showed more endurance than many of his older shipmates, and provided much counsel to his despondent captain, the colorful Jock Sutherland, who had taken a liking to the enthusiastic young sailor.
Some years later, when he was assigned to the Pacifique, one of the first iron sailing ships, a fire broke out below decks after the cargo was jostled by a hurricane. For days it appeared the ship would not reach shore before pressure from the heat below would blow out plates and sink the ship. Lightoller went alone with the captain on a dangerous expedition into hostile territory in order the negotiate for an offload of the burning cargo.
After a bad bout of malaria he decided to leave the sea and go prospecting for gold in the American West. Though his expedition met with no success, he dynamically led his group as nature threw one obstacle after another in their way. Ingeniously he plotted a path through a raging, overflowing river, saving several of his friends from certain doom when they became trapped in the middle of the torrent.
Most famously, Lightoller was stationed as First Officer of the famous luxury liner Titanic in 1912. Though bumped down to Second Officer in a last-minute staffing shuffle, Lightoller was placed in charge of the evacuation of the ship’s port side after the Titanic struck an iceberg and began to sink. Lightoller has been criticized for his strict interpretation of the “women and children first” rule, which he interpreted as “women and children only,” and some allege that many lives were lost as a result. But Lightoller remained at his position until the ship sank under him, at which time he was dragged under against an engine grate. He was luckily blown free by an explosion below, and managed to grab ahold of a lifeboat floating upside-down nearby. About twenty men reached that upside-down boat, and as a swell blew up at dawn Lightoller led them in balancing the boat to keep it afloat until one of the other lifeboats spotted them and picked them up.
When the First World War broke out, the ships of the White Star Line were compelled into military service. The ship Lightoller was serving aboard by then, the Oceanic, ended up running aground on a reef. Once again Lightoller was in the position of loading and lowering lifeboats as the ship sank beneath him. After losing the Oceanic, his favorite ship, he joined the British Navy.
He ascended to command a small ship designated HMTB 117. During this tenure, he prevented an air attack on London by firing shells revealing the position of an enemy dirigible. After HMTB-117 was torpedoed by a U-Boat, and Lightoller once again had to evacuate a sinking ship, he was given command of the H.M.S. Falcon, where he undertook a single-minded quest to destroy German U-Boats. For over a year he was unsuccessful, but finally he did ram and sink a U-Boat that had torpedoed one of the ships in his convoy.
After the war he temporarily returned to the White Star Line, but resigned when it was apparent that the company intended to stonewall his career due to his association with the infamous Titanic. His family survived by running a boarding house; the effort was successful enough that Lightoller bought a yacht, the Sundowner. At the onset a World War II, Lightoller and his wife Sylvia undertook a spy mission, navigating the Sundowner through German waters to report what they saw to British intelligence.
But perhaps Lightoller’s most spectacular adventure was near the end of the war, when the Navy confiscated the Sundowner to evacuate soldiers from Dunkirk. Lightoller would not abide handing his beloved yacht over to someone else, so he elected to undertake the dangerous mission himself. His youngest son, Roger, accompanied him. Steering into heavy German gunfire, Lightoller eluded the bombs and shells by anticipating the enemy’s movements and using the boat’s small size to his advantage. He reached Dunkirk successfully and crammed the boat full to twice its capacity, then navigated his way out again though German gunfire. On reaching safety, Lightoller unloaded his human cargo . . . then turned the boat around to do it all again! Altogether he saved 131 British soldiers.
A coward and a moron? Well, if by moron you mean caution-to-the-winds determination to save lives, and if possible the ship too, yeah, Lightoller’s a moron. Coward?? Read the preceding paragraph.
Evidently Lightoller’s strict and inflexible behavior aboard the Titanic has made up people’s minds about him, notably filmmaker James Cameron, who has stated audaciously that Lightoller was NOT a hero. This attitude reflects a misconception about the man and indeed the time of the Titanic disaster. It’s important to remember that Lightoller was not aware that the ship was sinking. He knew it was damaged and flooding, but thought the watertight bulkheads would keep the ship afloat. It was only once he had launched most of the boats that he realized the ship was really going to sink. He was also unaware that the lifeboats were new and tested overweight, and didn’t want to risk buckling them by trying to lower them with a full load. Undoubtedly he would have acted differently had communication aboard ship been handled better. Furthermore, “women and children first” was the unwritten law of the sea at that time. He had very little difficulty keeping the men out of the boats. A gentleman simply did not save his own life until he was sure all the women were safe. Almost every man who survived the disaster was compelled to explain himself. Many, including company president J. Bruce Ismay, were effectively ruined by the mere fact of their survival. Lightoller was not among these, for he never left the ship. As he said at the disaster hearings, the ship left him. I challenge Mr. Cameron – and anyone else alive today, myself included – to live half as worthwhile a life as Mr. Lightoller.
# posted by Collin R. Skocik @ 4:01 PM 
