Memories of adventure, danger and intrigue serving aboard the HMCS Cayuga during the Korean War
I was born in Rapid City, Manitoba, in December 1930 and joined the Royal Canadian Navy in 1948 at the age of 18. While serving aboard the HMCS Ontario, the Korean War began and there was a call for volunteers to serve in Korea. I transferred to the HMCS Cayuga and together with the Athabaskan and the Sioux, we sailed for Korea on July 5, 1950. The following are some of the memories I have of my two tours of duty patrolling Korea’s west coast at the beginning of the Korean War.
One time, while fuelling up on the atoll of Guam, Leading Seaman George Johnson rescued a dog that was part of a litter being drowned. Captain Brock allowed the dog to be kept onboard provided she was trained. We named the dog Alice and she served onboard the ship for two tours of duty; she was a great mascot that greatly raised the morale of the crew.
Our first United Nations (UN) patrol was escorting a troop ship to the port of Pusan while North Korean troops were within 25 miles of port. On our next mission, we became the first Canadian ship to fire in anger since the Second World War, bombarding the city of Yosu.
The Cayuga, along with a great number of UN ships, took part in the Inchon invasion on September 15, 1950. This resulted in a rapid advance by Allied troops up to the Yalu River. On October 16, 1950, we were leading the HMS Kenya north of Inchon when we had a very narrow escape: We discovered we were in a minefield. We immediately ordered the Kenya to turn to starboard, but we had to proceed, as our forward momentum had us in the minefield already. At one point, we heard metal scraping on metal as we made contact with one of the mines, but it must have been a dud, as we escaped unharmed.
Along with the Athabaskan and the Sioux, while heading to Hong Kong in November of 1950, we ran into a fierce Typhoon Clara in the Formosa Strait. A crewman from the Athabaskan was swept overboard. We turned to pick him up but missed. The Athabaskan also turned, and, through skilful handling, the ship managed to head straight to him—two sailors at the rail grabbed the swimmer just as the wave crested. After Ordinary Seaman Elvidge was safely back on board and dried off, he said, “Now I know there is a God.” That night, about 2 a.m., Cayuga was hit by a rogue wave. The helmsman swung the wheel to starboard to head the ship into the wave to prevent a rollover. We rolled 52 degrees—no Tribal-class destroyer had ever exceeded that degree of roll. Slowly, the ship returned to an upright position—a frightening experience for all aboard.
On one mission, we spent 54 straight days at sea, escorting aircraft carriers that were supplying guerrilla bases on offshore islands behind enemy lines, bombarding shore installations and assisting guerrilla operations raiding enemy-held islands. We had enemy artillery fire directed at us a number of times. Fortunately, they missed but did come very close.
During our second tour, while assisting on a guerrilla raid, three South Korean marines were badly wounded by the enemy. They were brought back to the ship, where our surgeon, Dr. Cyr, operated on them, saving their lives. A reporter wrote a story about this incident and it became national news back home in Canada. Apparently, the mother of the real Dr. Cyr, who was practicing in New Brunswick, contacted Ottawa and suggested there was an imposter aboard. Captain Plomer summoned the doctor to his cabin, where he eventually admitted that his name was actually Ferdinand Demara. He was shipped back to Ottawa and discharged from the navy. Hollywood later made a movie about him, called The Great Impostor, starring Tony Curtis.
At a naval reunion in 1979 in Victoria, we were able to meet Ferdinand Demara again. He told us that he was now a doctor of divinity working in a hospital in Anaheim, California. Over the years, his exploits led to charges of fraud, forgery, embezzlement, theft and vagary. Personally, I found him to be a good, down-to-earth man who was well liked by the crew.
—by Leonard “Scotty” Wells, Scarborough, Ontario