Chapter 2
The St Patrick Ferry
The St Patrick Ferry
The German bomber came out of the darkness, its twin engines throttled right back. It was like an eagle, hunting on silent wings in the predawn light. Those on board the Irish ferry St Patrick that fateful morning had little or no warning of the attack that was to kill many of them and to become one of the worst Irish maritime disasters of the period.
Elizabeth May Owen was just a quiet, introspective stewardess who would become one of the most plucky heroes of the Second World War. Even as the St Patrick was sinking beneath her, burning fiercely from the bomb attack and rapidly flooding, May had no hesitation in going below decks in search of missing women and children whom she was determined to save, even if it cost her own life. She did this not once, but twice, venturing down into the flooding ship, fighting her way through smoke-filled cabins and passageways to find those people who would surely have died without the help of this courageous woman. Later, as the survivors awaited rescue in the cold, oil-covered waters of the Irish Sea, May stuck resolutely to her self-appointed humanitarian task, holding onto a child and helping another woman to survive.
Elizabeth May Owen and all the heroes of the sinking of the St Patrick ferry in 1941 would later rarely speak of their actions during that horrific time, but they all had that singularly vital quality of 'quiet courage' the indelible streak of gallantry that set them apart and gave them a special element of unselfishness where the welfare and safety of others were more important than even their own safety.
Elizabeth May Owen was just a quiet, introspective stewardess who would become one of the most plucky heroes of the Second World War. Even as the St Patrick was sinking beneath her, burning fiercely from the bomb attack and rapidly flooding, May had no hesitation in going below decks in search of missing women and children whom she was determined to save, even if it cost her own life. She did this not once, but twice, venturing down into the flooding ship, fighting her way through smoke-filled cabins and passageways to find those people who would surely have died without the help of this courageous woman. Later, as the survivors awaited rescue in the cold, oil-covered waters of the Irish Sea, May stuck resolutely to her self-appointed humanitarian task, holding onto a child and helping another woman to survive.
Elizabeth May Owen and all the heroes of the sinking of the St Patrick ferry in 1941 would later rarely speak of their actions during that horrific time, but they all had that singularly vital quality of 'quiet courage' the indelible streak of gallantry that set them apart and gave them a special element of unselfishness where the welfare and safety of others were more important than even their own safety.