The Raising of Submarine K13

Tragedy in the Gareloch: the Raising of the K13

There would have been many more deaths that cold winter’s night in January 1917 if it hadn’t been for the sustained efforts of the rescuers. Rescuers who spent three long days and nights hoping, praying and battling to free the survivors trapped in the stricken submarine. They knew it was unlikely that all on board would have survived the submarine’s sinking: those four open hatches had let in a rush of ice cold water that instantly flooded the engine room and sent the submarine plunging down into the dark depths of the loch. But they knew there were some men still alive, and they were determined to do everything in their power to prevent the K13 becoming a tomb.

It’s a sorry tale that lies behind the K-Class submarines. Unwanted by the navy, this new design was pushed on them in the drive to create a submarine to match, and outdo, the deadly German U-boats. But instead it led to the creation of a vessel that killed not the enemy, but its own men. Over 300 submariners died in accidents on board these notorious craft.

Curiously though, some aspects of the K-Class submarines were ahead of their times. Certainly too far ahead for 1917, and wartime pressures that left too little time for trials and adequate training of the crews, men who had to deal with a whole new underwater beast at very short notice, and with disastrous results.

Thomas Grant Dey

My grandfather, Thomas Dey, was present throughout the rescue and wrote a first-hand account of events. It’s the sort of document that’s invaluable to historians and those with an interest in submarines alike. But it’s also an insight into the life and attitudes of a man I never met, but would have loved to have known.  It’s a document I treasure.

In one way, his account is of the men who would later become invisible in the story of the jinxed K13. Wartime secrecy played a part in that, but also the fact that commendations seldom go equally to those who deserve them. Take the men of the Merchant Navy who played their part in the Arctic Convoys, under the most appalling of circumstances, yet who had to wait decades for proper recognition of their bravery.

And yet it’s not rank or accident of birth that makes you braver, better or more worthy than other people. It’s how you behave and treat others that matters and that’s certainly not a new idea. Just think how well Robert Burns summed it up way back in 1795, in what’s arguably his best known poem, A Man’s a Man for a’ that. Yes, we still have a long way to go, and right now we seem to be going backwards in how the poorest and most vulnerable are being treated. But as has been the case throughout history, it’s up to us what happens and what sort of world we want for the generations that follow. Hopefully we’ll be as constant as people like my grandfather were, and that we’ll be as steadfast in our words and deeds. And maybe we will keep inching towards making Burns’ heartfelt desire a reality:

Then let us pray that come it may,
(As come it will for a’ that,)
That Sense and Worth, o’er a’ the earth,
Shall bear the gree, an’ a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
It’s coming yet for a’ that,
That Man to Man, the world o’er,
Shall brothers be for a’ that.

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Thomas Grant Dey

Thomas Grant Dey 1882- 1948

I never knew my paternal grandfather, Thomas Grant Dey, but I wish I had. He died in 1948, long before I was ever thought of. He was someone who lived a life very different from mine, and yet I feel sure he would have been pleased that his grandchildren have enjoyed the opportunities he never had.

When he was growing up, unemployment meant poverty, a grinding poverty that we can’t even begin to comprehend today. Only recently I discovered that he fathered eleven children, but of those only six survived into adulthood. What pain and sorrow all those deaths must have brought him and my grandmother, Janet.

During his working life as a shipwright he often had to travel far afield for work. To England, Spain, India and Africa. Early in his career he suffered a serious back injury and endured a lifetime of pain. But not working was not an option. The healthcare we enjoy now was unknown to him.  Doctors were too expensive. So people suffered in silence and all too often died young.

How different his life would have been if he had lived now. The lost children wouldn’t have been lost. The lifelong pain wouldn’t have needed to be endured. But back then the Welfare State was still undreamt of.

From talking to my father I know that my grandfather believed education was the way out of poverty and the opportunity for a better life. Thomas Dey wasn’t a forelock-tugger and saw the ruling elite for what they were, and still are. Greedy, uncaring and self-centered people, who enjoy a life of undeserved privilege, yet who hold the power and control the finances of the UK. Recently we have seen that they, quite literally, have the power of life and death over others. They are people who manipulate the system to their own benefit while letting others suffer, with no compunction whatsoever.

He’d be so angry at what’s happening today as the poor, the disabled and the vulnerable are targeted by the UK government. The UN and other organisations try to call Westminster to account, but are ignored. The rich are richer than ever before, ensuring the wealth of these four nations ends up in their pockets or in their offshore accounts. Britain is awash with money, yet the gap between rich and poor is greater here than anywhere else in Europe. And is greater now than ever before. Poverty and its ever-present henchmen, depression and suicide, are on the increase. While in England the NHS, perhaps the greatest achievement of post-war Britain, is being systematically dismantled and sold off by the Tories.


Link:  Selling off the NHS: How privatisation in England will impact on Scotland’s NHS


My grandfather died in January 1948, only months before the inauguration of the NHS, and so didn’t live to enjoy the huge changes that have improved all our lives since then. Yet so much of what was achieved in those post-war years is now being swept away. The enormity of the betrayal is staggering. The lack of responsibility or accountability in Westminster is staggering. Even more worryingly, laws are being passed without Parliamentary scrutiny, and Brexit legislation will allow Westminster to remove powers from the Scottish Government and alter the Scottish legal system without any say from the Scottish people.

Perhaps it’s the enormity of what’s being done to the democratic process, coupled with the sense of helplessness that this brings, that’s causing so many people to shut their eyes to what’s going on. Heads down. Watch reality TV. Agonise over which channel Bake Off should be on. Pretend it all has nothing to with them. I’m all right, Jack. Walk by on the other side. Keep below the radar. Don’t stand up to be counted. Concentrate on Strictly.

And yet at the same time, we’re repeatedly told how brave and courageous people were in WWI or WW2. How Black Africans stood up to Apartheid. How women fought for votes. How the Chartists struggled for the most basic of rights. How Thomas Muir is the ‘greatest democrat’. We’re encouraged to celebrate their actions and sacrifices. Yet we’re in the process of losing so many of the things they fought for. It’s as if we’re sleepwalking through events while being systematically stripped of what those before us achieved.


Link: Thomas Muir: Father of Scottish Democracy 


Change doesn’t happen by itself. Progress doesn’t happen by magic. Evil grows if not challenged. And each generation has to do its own challenging. It is our responsibility, not someone else’s. Remember the Big Yellow Taxi, that Joni Mitchell song where she sings, “Don’t it always seem to go that you don’t know what you’ve got ’til it’s gone?”

How I hope we’re thankful for what we have, and understand just what others have sacrificed for our sake. And how I hope that we will all fight to preserve such precious gifts for the generations to come. For our children’s sake. But also for those who had so little and struggled so much: our grandparents.