HMAS Voyager (D04) - Collision and Loss

Collision and Loss

On 10 February 1964, Voyager was performing trials in Jervis Bay, under the command of Captain Duncan Stevens, following the Williamstown refit. The aircraft carrier HMAS Melbourne, under the command of Captain John Robertson, was also undergoing post-refit trials in Jervis Bay. The trials involved interactions between both ships, and when Melbourne performed night flying exercises that evening, Voyager acted as the carrier's plane guard escort. This required Voyager to maintain a position 20° off Melbourne's port quarter at a distance from the carrier of 1,500 to 2,000 yards (1,400 to 1,800 m).

During the early part of the evening, Voyager had no difficulties maintaining her position during the manoeuvres both ships performed. Following a series of turns intended to reverse the courses of both ships beginning at 8:40 pm, Voyager ended up to starboard of Melbourne. At 8:52 pm, Voyager was ordered to resume the plane guard station. The procedure to accomplish this required Voyager to turn away from Melbourne in a large circle, cross the carrier's stern, then take position off Melbourne's port side. Instead, Voyager first turned to starboard, away from Melbourne, then turned to port without warning. It was initially assumed by Melbourne's bridge crew that Voyager was conducting a series of tight turns in order to lose speed before swinging behind Melbourne, but Voyager did not alter course again.

At 8:55 pm, with Voyager still turning to port, Melbourne's navigator ordered the carrier's engines to half astern speed, with Robertson ordering an increase to full astern a few seconds later. At the same time, Stevens, returning toVoyager's bridge from the nearby chart table, gave the order "Full ahead both engines. Hard-a starboard.", before instructing the destroyer's Quartermaster to announce that a collision was imminent. Both ships' measures were too late to avoid a collision; Melbourne hit Voyager at 8:56 pm.

Melbourne struck just aft of Voyager's bridge structure, rolling the destroyer to starboard before cutting her in half. Voyager's forward boiler exploded, briefly setting fire to the bow of the carrier before it was extinguished by seawater. The destroyer's forward section sank quickly, due to the weight of the two 4.5-inch (110 mm) gun turrets. The aft section did not begin sinking until half an hour after the collision, and did not completely submerge until just after midnight. Messages were sent to the Fleet Headquarters in Sydney immediately after the collision, although staff in Sydney initially underestimated the extent of the damage to Voyager. Melbourne launched her boats almost immediately after the collision to recover survivors, and the carrier's wardroom and C Hangar were prepared for casualties. At 9:58 pm, Melbourne was informed that search-and-rescue boats from HMAS Creswell, helicopters from HMAS Albatross (Naval Air Station Nowra), and five Ton class minesweepers had been despatched to assist in the search. Most of the survivors were recovered within fifteen minutes of the collision, although the search continued until the next day.

Of the 314 personnel aboard Voyager at the time of the collision, 14 officers and 67 sailors were killed, including Stevens and all but one of the bridge crew. A civilian dockyard worker also lost his life. The wreck of the destroyer lies in 600 fathoms (1,100 m) of water, 20 nautical miles (37 km) from Point Perpendicular on a bearing of 120°.

Read more about this topic:  HMAS Voyager (D04)

Famous quotes containing the words collision and/or loss:

    I know my fate. One day my name will be tied to the memory of something monstrous—a crisis without equal on earth, the most profound collision of conscience, a decision invoked against everything that had previously been believed, demanded, sanctified. I am no man, I am dynamite!
    Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900)

    One who shows signs of mental aberration is, inevitably, perhaps, but cruelly, shut off from familiar, thoughtless intercourse, partly excommunicated; his isolation is unwittingly proclaimed to him on every countenance by curiosity, indifference, aversion, or pity, and in so far as he is human enough to need free and equal communication and feel the lack of it, he suffers pain and loss of a kind and degree which others can only faintly imagine, and for the most part ignore.
    Charles Horton Cooley (1864–1929)