The historically important survivor from a sunken submarine Great War 1914-1915 Star trio and Ship’s Bell of the E-41 to Chief Stoker W. Brown, Royal Navy who was aboard the submarine E-41 when it was involved in a collision with the submarine E-4 during exercises off Harwich on 15th August 1916. The submarine subsequently sinking with the loss of 16 members of the crew, there were 15 survivors, six were trapped in the submarine as she sank and managed to free themselves when the air pressure building up as the submarine sank blew the hatch open and allowed them to float to the surface. Brown himself spent an hour and a half in the engine room at the bottom of the sea before the build up of air pressure allowed a hatch to open and thus enable Brown to reach the service where he would be picked up by H.M.S. Firedrake, the first time an escape of this manner had been achieved from a sunken submarine. In later life Brown would go on to become a swimming instructor and was renowned for saving lives of distressed swimmers, often jumping into the river fully clothed to pull people out.
Group of 3: 1914-1915 Star; (306130 W. BROWN. S.P.O. R.N.) British War Medal and Victory Medal; (306130 W. BROWN. CH. STO. R.N.)
Condition: Nearly Extremely Fine
Along with:
A series of newspaper articles retelling the events of Brown’s escape from E-41 in detail
Ship’s Bell for the E-41 in bronze, dated 21-12-1915, 23cm in diameter and approximately 25cm high.
Chief Stoker W. Brown saw service aboard the submarine E-41 during the Great War and affected a remarkable escape when it was sunk in a collision with the submarine E-4 during exercises off Harwich on 15th August 1916 with the loss of sixteen crew members, fifteen would escape including seven from the bottom. Six crewmembers trapped in the submarine as she sank were able to escape by waiting under the conning-tower until the air pressure building up as the submarine sank blew the hatch open and allowed them to float to the surface. Then Chief Petty Officer William Brown was left behind, but was eventually able to escape from the engine room after an hour and a half in the sunken submarine.
Brown would later report a report on his escape as follows:
‘About 10.30am on Tuesday 15th August 1916, something was heard to come in contact with the bottom of the Boat forward, twice in quick succession. Immediately after the Engine Room telegraph rang to ‘Out-Clutches’.
I took out the Port Clutch and then closed the muffler valve, then it was reported that the Ship was making water. I proceeded forward to ascertain the position of the leak. Finding no leak above the Battery Board, came to the conclusion she was holed low down.
First impulse was to close the lower Conning-Tower Hatch and put a pressure in the Boat, but the Men were then going up the conning tower.
At this time, Sewell, E.R.A. spoke to me and asked my opinion. I replied we would have a chance if we could close the hatch and get a pressure in the Boat. He thereupon stood by the air-valves and I waited to close the hatch. At this point Bullock, Chief E.R.A., enquired if all Hands were out of the Engine-Room. I replied I would find-out; on going aft I found one man coming forward and I ordered him to put on a life-belt and jeep his head til he could get a chance to get up the Conning-Tower hatch.
On ascertaining there was nobody else after, went forward and put on a life-belt. Then went back and closed the valve on the air trunk through the Engine-Room bulkhead, as at this time I thought I would have to use the Engine-Room as a way of escape.
I then went back to try and close the lower Conning-Tower hatch, but before I reached it water began to come down through it, and the Boat rook a decided dip forward. I went aft once more, closed the Engine-Room bulkhead scupper and shouted ot the Hands forward to come aft to the Engine-Room. There was however no response. Repeated efforts brought no reply, the midship compartment being in darkness and partly flooded, therefore it was impossible to ascertain if there was anyone alive; beyond a low moaning there was no sound.
It was impossible for me to leave the door, as it would have closed behind me and would have bene impossible to open again, owing to increase of pressure in the flooding compartment. I remained there hoping for some of them to come aft, until the water rose to 18 inches above the sill of the door and chlorine gas began to come through the midship compartment. I was then reluctantly forced to close the door, and proceeded to unscrew the clips of the torpedo hatch above me.
At this juncture the Engine-Room was in complete darkness with the exception of the Port pilot lamp, which appeared to be burning through earth. The water was slowly rising in the Engine-Room through the voice-pipes, which I had left open to relieve excessive pressure on the bulkhead of the Engine-Room.
I then proceeded to disconnect the torpedo hatch from the gearing, which necessitated the removal of two splits pins and two pins from the Links. Before the foremost one could be removed however, I had to unslip the strongback and wait til there was sufficient pressure in the Boat to ease the hatch off the strongback.
The heat at this time was excessive, therefore I rested awhile and considered the best means of flooding the Engine-room, and eventually came to the conclusion that the best way was to flood through the stern tube or the weed-trap of circulating system, or by dropping exhaust and induction valve and flooding through the muffler valve.
I tried the stern tube first, but could neither open the rear door nor stern cap. I then came forward to the forepart of the Engine-Room and considered the problem once more. Whilst passing the switch-boards, however, I received several shocks owing to the water form the voice-pipes was pouring down on top of me. So proceeded forward again and opened muffler valve, also the two test cocks on the two group exhaust pipes; tried them and found water coming in.
I then got on top of the Engines underneath the torpedo hatch, in order to drop the exhaust and induction valves, but discovered that the pressure inside the Boat was equalising the external pressure, and that the hatch was rising off the strongbacks. I then proceeded to unship the strongback, in order to drive the pin out of the link.
This was accomplished by means of a medium Vandadgel’s spanner, which I had carried with me from the time of entering the Engine-Room. I now proceeded to knock-out the pin securing the hatch to the gearing but found that the rubber jointing was springing the hatch up, the strain being so carried on the pin wedging it, that it was impossible to drive out.
I then dived down under the water and eased back the wheel of the gearing. After some little trouble I eventually managed to get the links in line, and was enabled to drive out the pin
I then came to the conclusion that it would give me more clearance whilst getting out of the hatch if the other stronback was removed, so I therefore removed it without any trouble. I was now ready for flooding the Boat completely.
I have always held the theory that the pressure in a sunken air-locked vessel can be greater than the external pressure, deciding factors being the weight and shape of the sunken vessels. The shape of a submarine appeared to lend itself to obtaining this increase of pressure. I then discovered that the Boat was flooding very slowly and I decided as a last resot to open the scupper in the Engine Room bulkhead.
I had previously closed this from inside the Engine-Room, as I was of the opinion that if I flooded through the exhaust and induction vavles, the induction valve would possibly close owing to the pressure behind it. So proceeded to ease back the butterfly nuts on the dead-light, open it and allow the water to come through. I only used this method of flooding as a last resort as I anticipated chlorine generating from this water, obtained from the midship compartment. This proved to be the case, but I then discovered that as the water came in, the air was escaping through the hatch. So I tried three times to open the hatch, succeeding I opening it about half way, but the air rushed out, and the hatch fell down again.
So I then dived down and retrieved the clip bolts and shipped two of them and lightly secured them to the end of the dogs, the idea being to get a sufficient pressure in the Boat, then knock the bolts away, anticipating being blown out by the pressure.
I then proceeded to put this idea into execution; the hatch flew open, but there was not sufficient pressure to blow me out, nor yet time for me to escape before the hatch came down again.
I tried once more to lift the hatch with my shoulder, but it descended on my hand. I managed to raise the hatch sufficiently clear my hand and it come down again.
I now considered it was impossible to attempt to blow myself out by means of internal pressure. There, I knocked the dogs off the deadlight and allowed the Boat to flood as quickly as possible, with the idea of flooding the Engine-Room completely and then raising the hatch and escaping.
I allowed the Engine-Room to flood till the water was up to the coaming of the hatch. I then raised the hatch and escaped, rising to the surface and being picked up by H.M.S. Firedrake.’
He would later gone on to teach children to swim and would save several lives in the Worcester area, a local newspaper writing:
‘Two more lives saved by William Brown’ commented a colleague on reading an account of two naval ratings from the submarine Artemis, recently sunk in Gosport harbour. He was referring to the little man in the tweed plus four suit who taught us to swim in those days before the Second World War.
Mr. William Brown was employed as an attendant at the bating barge moored near the Grand Stand Hotel on Pitchcroft. He kept the concrete changing pavilions, now the headquarters of Worcester Canoeing Club, as clean and shipshape as one would except of a retired chief petty officer.
But he did much more, he was never happier than when teaching youngsters to swim. His methods were highly original. He had a device consisting of a webbing belt to which he attached two inflated cows’ bladders, begged from the nearby slaughterhouse. Wearing this belt, a beginner was quickly able to muster the rudiments of swimming.
Then, a similar belt, but with cork discs instead of bladders, was substituted. This, explained Mr. brown was equally as buoyant, but supported the beginners nearer the correct depth for swimming. As soon as the pupil had suem a full length wearing this belt he was required to exchange it for another, almost identical in appearance. After swimming around for a while wearing this he was told to take it off.
‘Now fetch it out for me’ commanded Mr. Brown, throwing it into the water ‘You can swim now’ the third device was not even buoyant it sunk.
The old barge was not a particularly pleasant place to swim and our parents preferred to pay for us to use Parks’ Baths in Sansome Walk. With boyish bravado we claimed to prefer the murky Severn to the clear pool water. We objected to the smell of chlorine, but paid little heed to effluvia emanating from the Hylton Road Tannery.
In any event we pocketed the money for there was no admission charge at the Barge, unless one cared to pay a penny for the privacy of a changing cubicle – and such modesty was not for us. Our parents were fearful of the hazards of the Severn, but we saw no reason to fear, for the Barge seemed safe enough, and anyway William Brown had a reputation for river rescues. Time and again he had been known to five, fully dressed into the river to save someone from drowning, and this not necessarily in the course of his duty for he seemed to spend his leisure time patrolling the river banks.
Many of a report of his recuses appeared in the old ‘Evening News and Times’ but a far greater number went unreported for William Brown did not court publicity.
He was equally reticent to discuss the event that brought him fame and it was only after plying him with questions that one daywe were able to hear him tell the story of his amazing escape from a submarine. For in the days when Mr Brown served as a submariner, a sunken submarine was synonymous with the loss of all lives on board.
William Brown was well aware of this the day he found himself trapped and alone in the conning tower of a sunken ‘E’ class submarine. No one had ever escaped from such a predicament and there was no procedure by which he might save himself. But Mr. Brown was a resolute man, capable of original thought. He reasoned that if the conning tower could be flooded, the equalisation of pressure might enable him to open the hatch and escape.
He decided to put his theory to the test. Unlatching the hatch clips in readiness, he opened the sea cocks flooding the compartment. As the cold water rose higher and higher he clung with icy fingers to the steel ladder. There was no such thing as underwater breathing apparatus available so he kept his face pressed sideways and upwards into the hatch recess to enable him to breather until the moment he was completely submerged.
The with a mighty heave, he flung open the hatch cover and found himself hurtling upwards towards the surface at the speed of an express train. But the effort of opening the hatch had been too much. Fast as he was travelling he was unable to hold his breath long enough. Involuntarily he took a deep gasp, expecting to drown, but surprisingly found he was breathing air. Miraculously, an air bubble had escaped with him and was enveloping his head.
William Brown’s escape made naval history, for as a result of the lesson learned, the Davis Escape Apparatus was devised and had subsequently been the means of saving many a life. The story of his escape is well known to all submariners, but he is best remembered in Worcester for the countless he saved from the Severn and the hundreds of children whom he taught the means of saving themselves, and others, from the fate that might have once been his own.’
