Columbia River Sun-Thursday, January 16, 1919 Cathlamet, Wahkiakum County, Washington Skamokawa Boy Describes His Experience of Being Torpedoed Emmery Hougen Relates How Two Torpedoes Hit Vessel in the Night-Graphic Detail of Thrilling Adventure Emmery G. Hougen, son of Mr. and Mrs. M. S. Hougen of the West Valley Skamokawa, writes to his father from Brest, France, Nov. 30, 1918, and tells of his experience on board of a steamship as it was torpedoed by a German submarine. “The censor is no more over here and I guess I can write you a letter and let you know what I am doing and what has happened in the last few months. To begin with as you know, we sailed from New York on the 1st of August, there being about 20 ships in our convoy and everything went fine until the 15th when we received submarine warnings and were in the most dangerous zone at that time. That was on a Thursday, about noon, and all that morning we were having engine trouble and didn’t know whether we could keep up with the convoy or not, but we went along pretty good until about 5:30 that night when one of the rollers in the engine tore out and was beyond repair. Just as we broke down I went on watch at the wheel and it seemed to me like I was the hoo-doo because just as I took the wheel the chief engineer phoned up to the bridge saying one of the rollers had torn out and we could go no further. There we were, helpless, 300 miles from Brest, the nearest port. A few minutes later as we were watching the convoyed ships leaving us, we saw the Montana get struck by a torpedo and it looked similar to a big blast – a big puff of black smoke and that was all there was to it. She listed over on her starboard side and sank about 9 o’clock the next day. We were laying dead in the sea and not far off. As she sank it presented one of the prettiest sights I had ever saw. She appeared like a big monster as she stuck her bow straight up in the air and odwn she straight up in the air and down she (this sentence is transcribed as it appeared in the newspaper.) But going back to the West Bridge again, the captain says, as the Montana was hit, “there she goes and I guess that’s the way it will go with our happy home”. “Never mind, captain” says I, “we will get the beasts yet”. Just then the gongs sounded a general alarm and all fell in at their stations and remained so until dark, everybody keeping a sharp lookout for the submarine. About 9:00 P.M. we fell out at our stations and the captain put half of the crew on watch and told the rest of us we could turn in if we want to. In our helpless condition, most of us expected to be torpedoed sometime before daybreak, yet others thought no bit would be made until morning, and believing so myself I turned in, figuring on getting a good night’s sleep before the sub got us anyway. All were in good humor, except two or three who were pretty badly scared. To me it didn’t seem anything to be afraid of, because if you are going to get torpedoed, why you are going to get it. About 9:30 I went to bed with all my clothing on. I thought perhaps I might be compelled to get out in a hurry – and I did – at 8 minutes after 12 Friday morning. I sure woke up, believe me. Two torpedoes hit the ship. When the first hit I made a dive out of my bunk and then came the second one which knocked me flat on the deck and the submarine sure got a cussing from me. The ship settled in a second, because as I was making for my boat I had to run through a foot of water which was over the forward deck. In the meantime the captain gave orders to abandon ship and everybody got away, except for four who were killed in the engine room. One of the torpedoes struck the engine room and the other went into the fireroom. About ten of the crew were scratched up a little. We were lucky the sea was calm, because had it been rough as we experienced on several trips over we could never have launched the lifeboats and some of us would be going yet. We were picked up by a destroyer the next morning and taken to Brest, where we have remained ever since. The most wonderful thing of all is that the West Bridge did not sink and was towed successfully into the port of Brest, although she had a hole torn in the starboard side 75 feet long and 15 feet wide. I believe it was the cargo of flour which kept her afloat. The ship is being repaired and will sail again before very long. The vessel is on the beach about one-half mile from Brest. A wooden patch has been placed on her side and in a couple of weeks will be put in dry dock. After coming to Bret, 24 of the crew were transferred to the “Favorite”, which is a wrecking ship. We were called the repair unit. All the crew does is repair work and it is the finest bunch of men and officers I have seen in the Navy. After being transferred to the Favorite, we repaired the West-Ward-Ho, which was torpedoed and is probably the New York now. We then went out to the West Bridge and have been working on her ever since. I think she will be pumped out in about three weeks. The patch was attached to the hull under water, and is considered here quite a piece of engineering work-which it is. The West Bridge sure will have a history after she gets in running order again. Motion picture people have been out her twice taking pictures and also took pictures of the old crew operating one of the guns. More pictures will be taken when the vessel is being pumped out. There is plenty of excitement in being torpedoed, believe me, but I wouldn’t care to go through it again. (As transcribed by the Wahkiakum County Historical Society 2008 from original newspaper collection.)