At the height of the war in the Atlantic, Lt-Cdr Keith Morrison wrote a last letter to his wife and went to face a heroic death. Sixty-five years later, the newly discovered document sheds fresh light on a remarkable man caught up in extraordinary circumstances. Nigel Blundell pieces his story together, while we reprint the long-lost letter
The 37 freighters and tankers of Convoy HX84 were seven days out of Halifax, Nova Scotia - halfway home but still in mid-Atlantic - when the pocket battleship Admiral Scheer was sighted on the horizon. The convoy's sole escort, an ancient converted cargo ship armed with obsolete guns, turned to meet her.
What followed was one of the most heroic actions of the Second World War, as the crew of HMS Jervis Bay prepared for a battle that could have only one outcome. Outgunned, and with no hope of survival, they sailed head-on for the German ship, feebly returning the broadsides of her 11-inch guns.
Crippled and sinking, the Jervis Bay held the Admiral Scheer at bay, allowing the convoy to disperse into a winter storm. All but nine ships escaped. More than 190 of the 256 Jervis Bay crew died.
A footnote to the story has since come to light, during the writing of a book about the battle, that tells a little more about the sort of men who gave their lives in that cold, cruel, unequal struggle.
It is a letter written by the officer who commanded the Jervis Bay in her dying moments. Lieutenant- Commander Keith Morrison wrote it on September 20, 1940, and marked it: "To be placed with my will and in the event of my death to be given to my wife."
Cdr Morrison was last seen, wounded but standing perfectly straight, on the foredeck of his ship as, having launched her last lifeboat, the Jervis Bay sank into the icy Atlantic on the evening of November 5, 1940. And, from the letter he left, we know of whom he was thinking during the final moments of his life... "It will be very hard if I have to die without holding you in my arms again and telling you of that great love I have for you."
Keith Morrison and Margaret Chisholm had married in Sydney in 1935, he a 32-year-old merchant navy First Officer with the Orient Line and she a 24-year-old Australian from a New South Wales farming family. They settled in Dorking and had two sons. Michael, born in 1937, has only a brief memory of being held aloft by his father on one of his shore leaves. Tony, born in July 1940, never saw his father. After the war, Margaret took the children to back Australia. She died in 1957.
"It was only after her death that we saw all her letters," says her son, Mike, now 68, a retired lieutenant-colonel with the Australian Army. "It was humbling to realise how enormously devoted they were to each other and to us boys."
One of the letters, written by Margaret to her family in New South Wales on November 19, reads: "I just can't believe that I will never see Keith again, but I have nothing but happiness and his two lovely children to remember him by, and no two people ever had a greater love and understanding between them as he and I did.
"I know too how much he longed for action and that he had his dearest wish fulfilled by taking part in such a glorious battle. Nothing has been more gallant in the history of the Navy and his two sons have a wonderful example to follow and I pray they may always be worthy of it."
Margaret learnt from survivors of the Jervis Bay that her husband had taken over command of the ship after the captain (Captain Fogarty Fegen, awarded a posthumous VC) and two other senior officers had been killed. Despite being twice wounded, Cdr Morrison organised the defence of his ship as, ablaze from bow to stern, she was raked with gunfire from the Admiral Scheer. Finally, with all but one of her lifeboats burnt, he ordered "abandon ship".
Margaret later wrote: "They say he was as cheerful as a cricket and cheering them all up. There was only one boat left, and there wasn't room for everyone; and it was his duty to see it safely away, so he stayed behind.
"He was standing on the foredeck still perfectly erect with the surgeon and another officer when she went down. The surgeon was badly wounded, but he could stand up and was Keith's greatest friend on board. And so, if it had to be, it's rather wonderful knowing he went like that, in command of his gallant ship and with his greatest friend."
After receiving the letter that her husband had left with his will, Margaret again wrote to her family in Australia: "Keith was so gallant - as indeed were all those men - and his last thoughts, I know, would have been for me, Michael and Anthony and for his mother." Margaret's sons read all of her letters - and the final letter from Keith - only after her death.
Her son Michael says: "She handled my father's death with great resolve, courage and love. Perhaps hers was a loyalty bordering on obsession; but for sure it was love in the extreme. It must have been a sublime relationship and, for my mother, one that never did - nor did she ever want it to - come again."
His brother Tony, 65, who farms near Goulburn, New South Wales, has never taken Australian citizenship.
"That's out of a respect for my father," he says. "I have always been enormously proud that my Dad died for his country, and, although I grew up a real Aussie kid, I have always been patriotically English. I keep my British passport because that part of me is precious, sacred almost. It's how I can keep part of my father. I have always loved him, though I never saw him. But his letter to my mother tells me everything I would wish to know about him. He is an unsung hero."
• 'If the Gods are Good: The Sacrifice of HMS Jervis Bay' by Gerald Duskin and Ralph Segman (Crecy Publishing), £10.95 (0161 499 0024 or www.crecy.com)
The 37 freighters and tankers of Convoy HX84 were seven days out of Halifax, Nova Scotia - halfway home but still in mid-Atlantic - when the pocket battleship Admiral Scheer was sighted on the horizon. The convoy's sole escort, an ancient converted cargo ship armed with obsolete guns, turned to meet her.
What followed was one of the most heroic actions of the Second World War, as the crew of HMS Jervis Bay prepared for a battle that could have only one outcome. Outgunned, and with no hope of survival, they sailed head-on for the German ship, feebly returning the broadsides of her 11-inch guns.
Crippled and sinking, the Jervis Bay held the Admiral Scheer at bay, allowing the convoy to disperse into a winter storm. All but nine ships escaped. More than 190 of the 256 Jervis Bay crew died.
A footnote to the story has since come to light, during the writing of a book about the battle, that tells a little more about the sort of men who gave their lives in that cold, cruel, unequal struggle.
It is a letter written by the officer who commanded the Jervis Bay in her dying moments. Lieutenant- Commander Keith Morrison wrote it on September 20, 1940, and marked it: "To be placed with my will and in the event of my death to be given to my wife."
Cdr Morrison was last seen, wounded but standing perfectly straight, on the foredeck of his ship as, having launched her last lifeboat, the Jervis Bay sank into the icy Atlantic on the evening of November 5, 1940. And, from the letter he left, we know of whom he was thinking during the final moments of his life... "It will be very hard if I have to die without holding you in my arms again and telling you of that great love I have for you."
Keith Morrison and Margaret Chisholm had married in Sydney in 1935, he a 32-year-old merchant navy First Officer with the Orient Line and she a 24-year-old Australian from a New South Wales farming family. They settled in Dorking and had two sons. Michael, born in 1937, has only a brief memory of being held aloft by his father on one of his shore leaves. Tony, born in July 1940, never saw his father. After the war, Margaret took the children to back Australia. She died in 1957.
"It was only after her death that we saw all her letters," says her son, Mike, now 68, a retired lieutenant-colonel with the Australian Army. "It was humbling to realise how enormously devoted they were to each other and to us boys."
One of the letters, written by Margaret to her family in New South Wales on November 19, reads: "I just can't believe that I will never see Keith again, but I have nothing but happiness and his two lovely children to remember him by, and no two people ever had a greater love and understanding between them as he and I did.
"I know too how much he longed for action and that he had his dearest wish fulfilled by taking part in such a glorious battle. Nothing has been more gallant in the history of the Navy and his two sons have a wonderful example to follow and I pray they may always be worthy of it."
Margaret learnt from survivors of the Jervis Bay that her husband had taken over command of the ship after the captain (Captain Fogarty Fegen, awarded a posthumous VC) and two other senior officers had been killed. Despite being twice wounded, Cdr Morrison organised the defence of his ship as, ablaze from bow to stern, she was raked with gunfire from the Admiral Scheer. Finally, with all but one of her lifeboats burnt, he ordered "abandon ship".
Margaret later wrote: "They say he was as cheerful as a cricket and cheering them all up. There was only one boat left, and there wasn't room for everyone; and it was his duty to see it safely away, so he stayed behind.
"He was standing on the foredeck still perfectly erect with the surgeon and another officer when she went down. The surgeon was badly wounded, but he could stand up and was Keith's greatest friend on board. And so, if it had to be, it's rather wonderful knowing he went like that, in command of his gallant ship and with his greatest friend."
After receiving the letter that her husband had left with his will, Margaret again wrote to her family in Australia: "Keith was so gallant - as indeed were all those men - and his last thoughts, I know, would have been for me, Michael and Anthony and for his mother." Margaret's sons read all of her letters - and the final letter from Keith - only after her death.
Her son Michael says: "She handled my father's death with great resolve, courage and love. Perhaps hers was a loyalty bordering on obsession; but for sure it was love in the extreme. It must have been a sublime relationship and, for my mother, one that never did - nor did she ever want it to - come again."
His brother Tony, 65, who farms near Goulburn, New South Wales, has never taken Australian citizenship.
"That's out of a respect for my father," he says. "I have always been enormously proud that my Dad died for his country, and, although I grew up a real Aussie kid, I have always been patriotically English. I keep my British passport because that part of me is precious, sacred almost. It's how I can keep part of my father. I have always loved him, though I never saw him. But his letter to my mother tells me everything I would wish to know about him. He is an unsung hero."
• 'If the Gods are Good: The Sacrifice of HMS Jervis Bay' by Gerald Duskin and Ralph Segman (Crecy Publishing), £10.95 (0161 499 0024 or www.crecy.com)
Last words from a doomed officer
To be placed with my will and in the event of my death to be given to my wife
At sea
My Beloved Wife, I hope that this letter may never have to be given to you, for it is about a subject which we never speak of or even allow ourselves to think of.... that is, of my not coming home safely to you and to our children. Nevertheless, I cannot blink at the fact that there is more danger to be faced now than there was last year, or if we meet the enemy in any strength our chances of survival in these coming winter months are not very good.... & so because of that darling I am writing this letter to you to ask you to do certain things, & to tell you a few things.
I cannot thank you enough, my darling for all you have been to me ever since we met... no man ever had a better wife... our separations and our anxieties have been hard, but your courage & cheerfulness & great love have brought nothing but happiness to me.
You can look back over these last 7 years & find happiness at every turn - & I have lived solely & simply for you, & you have done the same for me. You will remember saying Goodnight on the steps of the Macquarie Club; driving to Mittagong, Old Sambo & the cottage: Fountains Abbey, Brittany, how we asked Old Foxey to dinner, our lovely house which has always been a Home, the day that Michael was born - all those things have been ours, and all our happy memories coupled with scores of others which have done so much to make life beautiful & wonderful to us.
I want you to find happiness in all those things, dear heart & if I have to die I don't want it to break your life up or change you. There are two little lives who are going to need you more than ever because I am gone, & you must do your best for them & bring them up to be a credit to you & a mirror of the love in which they were born.
If you ever want to marry again for any reason at all I shall quite understand: you are too young to contemplate living your life alone to its end, & if you do marry I pray that it may be to a good man who can give you that constant companionship & care, which I have never been able to give you. By marrying again you would be in no way unfaithful to my memory, all I want is your happiness.
You have had a hard life as a sailor's wife, but it has brought out all that is gold in you, & not a single flaw shown... As regards our sons darling - two boys will be a hard task for you but always use a firm hand & keep the upper hand too.
It is my earnest wish that neither of them go to sea or join any of the Services as a profession - rather would I that they grew up to the suburban Home life in which you & I would have been so ideally happy: they won't be able to understand that when they are young, but they will as they grow older.
Do not make the mistake of stinting yourself to try and educate them above your means - & maybe no influence at the end of it to help them into a good job. I had to strive for my living & was just beginning to get somewhere... so it can be done if one works hard.
It is a great joy to me when you tell me how generous Michael is with his sweets & toys, & I feel sure that Anthony will be the same. Try to bring them up to appreciate the beauty of nature & things generally - think how much happiness we have gained from a beautiful sunset or a lovely view or an old, old castle. It is a sense not given to everyone. I expect you'll take them to Australia & become good Australians, & you will be very wise if you do. It is a wonderful country & I hold it very dear in my affections - & there will be opportunities there for them than in England.
If I have to die I am not afraid to do so & I know I will have died in supporting a righteous cause. Don't let my death affect the attitude towards the war: and we must win for the sake of civilisation... & if we were to lose, my death & those of many others would have been in vain - & it is hard enough to leave you without that.
There is nothing spectacular in my War Effort to leave behind for my sons, but I die conscious that I have always done my job to the best of my ability & always had the faith and reliance of those above me. Someone has to do the dull work, & until one has actually had to do it one doesn't realise how hard it is, with this prolonged separation from one's loved ones & thoughts of them being bombed or invaded ever present...
Try to bring the children up with a love of the Church such as we have - not religion thrust upon them, but feeling they can turn to God as friend for help.
Not much more, Precious: it will be very hard if I have to die without holding you in my arms again & telling you of that great love I have for you... but pray God that I shan't have to.
God bless you and our darling sons always - you are my Light & my Love & my Life & I have lived just for you. My great sorrow if I have to "pass on", is the sorrow I will cause you - but fight it Beloved... but fight it as we have always fought all our sorrows.
Ever your devoted and loving Xxxxxxxxxxxx Husband.
At sea
My Beloved Wife, I hope that this letter may never have to be given to you, for it is about a subject which we never speak of or even allow ourselves to think of.... that is, of my not coming home safely to you and to our children. Nevertheless, I cannot blink at the fact that there is more danger to be faced now than there was last year, or if we meet the enemy in any strength our chances of survival in these coming winter months are not very good.... & so because of that darling I am writing this letter to you to ask you to do certain things, & to tell you a few things.
I cannot thank you enough, my darling for all you have been to me ever since we met... no man ever had a better wife... our separations and our anxieties have been hard, but your courage & cheerfulness & great love have brought nothing but happiness to me.
You can look back over these last 7 years & find happiness at every turn - & I have lived solely & simply for you, & you have done the same for me. You will remember saying Goodnight on the steps of the Macquarie Club; driving to Mittagong, Old Sambo & the cottage: Fountains Abbey, Brittany, how we asked Old Foxey to dinner, our lovely house which has always been a Home, the day that Michael was born - all those things have been ours, and all our happy memories coupled with scores of others which have done so much to make life beautiful & wonderful to us.
I want you to find happiness in all those things, dear heart & if I have to die I don't want it to break your life up or change you. There are two little lives who are going to need you more than ever because I am gone, & you must do your best for them & bring them up to be a credit to you & a mirror of the love in which they were born.
If you ever want to marry again for any reason at all I shall quite understand: you are too young to contemplate living your life alone to its end, & if you do marry I pray that it may be to a good man who can give you that constant companionship & care, which I have never been able to give you. By marrying again you would be in no way unfaithful to my memory, all I want is your happiness.
You have had a hard life as a sailor's wife, but it has brought out all that is gold in you, & not a single flaw shown... As regards our sons darling - two boys will be a hard task for you but always use a firm hand & keep the upper hand too.
It is my earnest wish that neither of them go to sea or join any of the Services as a profession - rather would I that they grew up to the suburban Home life in which you & I would have been so ideally happy: they won't be able to understand that when they are young, but they will as they grow older.
Do not make the mistake of stinting yourself to try and educate them above your means - & maybe no influence at the end of it to help them into a good job. I had to strive for my living & was just beginning to get somewhere... so it can be done if one works hard.
It is a great joy to me when you tell me how generous Michael is with his sweets & toys, & I feel sure that Anthony will be the same. Try to bring them up to appreciate the beauty of nature & things generally - think how much happiness we have gained from a beautiful sunset or a lovely view or an old, old castle. It is a sense not given to everyone. I expect you'll take them to Australia & become good Australians, & you will be very wise if you do. It is a wonderful country & I hold it very dear in my affections - & there will be opportunities there for them than in England.
If I have to die I am not afraid to do so & I know I will have died in supporting a righteous cause. Don't let my death affect the attitude towards the war: and we must win for the sake of civilisation... & if we were to lose, my death & those of many others would have been in vain - & it is hard enough to leave you without that.
There is nothing spectacular in my War Effort to leave behind for my sons, but I die conscious that I have always done my job to the best of my ability & always had the faith and reliance of those above me. Someone has to do the dull work, & until one has actually had to do it one doesn't realise how hard it is, with this prolonged separation from one's loved ones & thoughts of them being bombed or invaded ever present...
Try to bring the children up with a love of the Church such as we have - not religion thrust upon them, but feeling they can turn to God as friend for help.
Not much more, Precious: it will be very hard if I have to die without holding you in my arms again & telling you of that great love I have for you... but pray God that I shan't have to.
God bless you and our darling sons always - you are my Light & my Love & my Life & I have lived just for you. My great sorrow if I have to "pass on", is the sorrow I will cause you - but fight it Beloved... but fight it as we have always fought all our sorrows.
Ever your devoted and loving Xxxxxxxxxxxx Husband.
