What Happened to Beth?

Like many British children, 14-year-old Beth Cummings was eager to be a participant in the CORB program and go to Canada to escape the war. She had already been evacuated the year before, to Chester—only 17 miles from her Liverpool home. While she and her friend Thelma were fortunate to stay in a welcoming home, not all the children were as lucky. Hosts were expected to take in children whether they wanted to or not, for eight shillings a week. Since the threats of war had not really happened yet, students began returning home on weekends and then many simply stayed home until the scheme fizzled out.

By the summer of 1940, however, bombs were dropping and children and parents alike could see the value of moving kids to safety. Beth was delighted to learn she’d been accepted to go to Canada and excitedly boarded the SS City of Benares on September 12 with her new friends—among them her new bestie, Bess Walder, 15. Beth and Bess quickly became inseparable. They hoped and prayed they’d be placed in the same home—or at least the same community—once they reached Canada. 

Alas, that was not the end result of their voyage. Only a week later, Beth would be telling her amazing story to a newspaper reporter from her hospital bed:

“On our fifth day at sea, the seventeenth, the weather turned for the worse and we all spent that day in our cabins, most of us seasick. Just after ten pm, we heard two explosions. We heard someone yelling that the ship had been torpedoed. I rushed out of my cabin into the corridor and headed for our muster point. I met up with my new friend, Bess. Bess had to fight her way out of her cabin because a cupboard had fallen against the door. We rushed to the lifeboat deck to find chaos and panic, and no sign of Bess’s brother, Louis. We were guided to lifeboat Number Five, which launched at a terrifying angle. The sea was so turbulent, and we all spilled out.”

What followed was the most grueling 18 hours Beth would ever experience.

“Bess and I managed to swim to our waterlogged lifeboat and hang on as best we could. Eventually, the boat tipped upside down and we grasped the rope that ran along the spine. Several others hung on with us. Bess hung on the opposite side of me, so we could see only each others’ hands until a wave carried us up, then down again. On the way down, we could glimpse each others’ faces for a second. Then our bodies would slam against the boat and the whole thing started over again. At one point, I lost my grip and slipped off but I was able to grab the rope again.” 

Last month, I told about how the girls were eventually rescued and returned home by the HMS Hurricane. Beth spent three weeks in the hospital, recovering from badly frostbitten and infected feet. At her mother’s encouragement, she used the time to write down everything about the ordeal. As a result, she retained clear and sharp details.

Although they never made it to Canada, both girls survived World War II and remained friends for life. They even became sisters-in-law when Bess met and married Beth’s brother, Geoff Cummings, in 1947. Bess went on to organize several reunions of the Benares survivors in the years that followed.

“What I think helped me and Beth to survive as we did was that we were doing it together.”  (Bess Walder, quoted in Children of the Doomed Voyage, Janet Menzies, 2005)

What Happened to Bess?

This series of blog posts will cover some of the stories not covered in my new book, Even If I Perish.

In 1940, numerous upper-class women and children had already fled from war-torn England to Canada and the United States, but many who wished to leave could not afford to. The Children’s Overseas Reception Board (CORB) was formed and tasked with running the scheme, and 211,000 children applied. Among them were 15-year old Bess Walder and her 10-year-old brother, Louis, from Kentish Town in northwest London.

Every day, Bess watched for the postman from the top of her family’s house. With so many bombed-out buildings in her line of sight, it was easy to see him on his route, and she made a deal with him. “I’ll be watching every day,” she said. “If you have an envelope addressed to my parents and it says, On His Majesty’s Service, will you wave it at me as you come down the street?”

Although the friendly man called her naughty and told her he couldn’t do that, one morning in late summer, he did. As he picked his way through the bomb-damaged pavement, he waved a large brown manila envelope. Bess and Louis tore down the stairs and out into the street. Knowing better than to open the envelope, they took it to their mother, who tucked it into her apron and continued with breakfast preparations.

When she finally relented to her children’s impatient begging, she scanned the letter and told them they’d been accepted. They were going to Canada. The pair exploded into cheers of “Hooray,” not once considering how their reaction might pain their mother’s heart. For them, it seemed like one big happy adventure.

Bess and Louis didn’t have long to wait. By September 9, children from all over England were headed for Liverpool where they would gather and from where they’d embark. On September 12, 90 “seavacuees” between the ages of five and 15 and ten adult escorts found themselves all in the same boat: the SS City of Benares, a luxury liner. The children reveled in the sumptuous surroundings, first-class accommodation, and food more varied and abundant than most had ever experienced. Bess quickly made friends with a girl named Beth, from Liverpool.

Tragedy Strikes

After the children had gone to bed on September 17, a torpedo from a German U-boat found its target and breached the hull of the City of Benares. The ship sank within 30 minutes. Beth and Bess found themselves in the same lifeboat, which quickly capsized in the horrendous storm. Soaking wet and freezing cold, the girls and a handful of other passengers managed to clasp their hands together across the overturned boat’s keel. The two girls hung onto each other and encouraged each other through the longest night of their lives. Each time a wave lifted the lifeboat to its crest, they caught a glimpse of the other’s face, then prepared for the slam their bodies would receive against the boat’s side when the wave came down again. Over and over, the girls fought the temptation to simply let go and surrender their bodies to the sea.

When morning finally came, they discovered to their horror that only one other passenger remained hanging from the boat, and he appeared to be passed out or deceased. To their great disappointment, no rescue ship was in sight. The girls continued to encourage each other. “I’m all right, Bess, are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m all right. Are you all right, Beth?” Bess’s biggest concern was for her brother, Louis. She had no idea which lifeboat he’d gotten into, if any. Was he dead or alive?

All through that day, the girls hung on, their hands numb as they curled around the ropes of the boat’s spine. They promised each other they’d hang on, no matter what. Daylight was beginning to fade again when they spotted their rescuers. The HMS Hurricane had been dispatched to the location of the sunken ship. When sailors spotted the overturned boat, they rowed to it in a smaller boat. One of the sailors climbed onto the lifeboat’s keel. The girls’ hands were so tightly clenched that the rope had to be cut to release their hands. As much as they wanted to let go, they could not. The sailor rescued Bess first. Once she was in the boat, he went back for Beth.

With a broken leg, many lacerations, and still worried about Louis, Bess had trouble resting in her bed onboard the rescue ship. When a sailor walked into sickbay with a surprise—Louis, alive and well—she felt she could endure anything.

Beth and Bess remained best friends and eventually became related through marriage. I’ll tell Beth’s side of the story next time.