As a member of the U.S. Merchant Marine shortly after the end of World War II, I signed on a troop ship that was to sail for Le Havre, France, to load troops for the “Magic Carpet” operation, which would return American service personnel to the United States. A few days before we were due to sail, the ship was overrun with longshoremen carrying cribs, diapers, and many other items for women and children. Our orders were changed, and we sailed for Southampton, England, to load English war brides instead of homeward-bound troops.
Merchant seamen dread winter on the North Atlantic. The crossing to Southampton was fairly calm, but we would pay for it on the homeward voyage. On Jan. 26, 1946, we departed Southampton with The SS Argentina, operated by Moore-McCormack lines for the U.S. government, moved past the waterfront of Southampton as the brides lining the deck started to sing “There’ll Always Be an England” with tears streaming down their faces. Little did they know what a strange and terrible voyage lay ahead of them.
As the Argentina passed land’s end on Sunday morning, the North Atlantic started to act up. The ship started to roll, and for the next nine days it got worse. Almost three-quarters of the brides became seasick, and their appetites were gone. They fell down the ship’s grand staircase and collapsed on deck and in the passageways. Babies were screaming, abandoned by some mothers who wanted to die.
The doctors felt that the high rate of seasickness among the women was due to many causes, including tension, fear, and excitement. What saved the voyage from becoming a complete disaster was the wonderful comradeship among the brides who did not become seasick, the military personnel, and the ship’s crew: All assisted the helpless ones. The North Atlantic became so rough that the RMS Queen Mary, just out of Southampton, had to turn around and go back.
On Sunday, Feb. 3, the temperature dropped below freezing and the ocean spray coated the ship in ice. With only the working crew about, the ship looked ghostly as she plowed the seas.
The next morning, still coated with ice, the ship entered New York harbor. The entire waterfront was silent because the towboat operators were on strike. As four Army tugboats eased the Argentina into Pier 54, you could hear a few brides singing “God Bless America.”
I keep in touch with three of the war brides from the Argentina—the first of the ships that would eventually bring tens of thousands of war brides to the United States.
Member William J. Longo lives in The Colony, Texas.