On March 6, 1945, a series of powerful explosions rocked the center of the port city of Vancouver, located on the Pacific coast of Canada. Window glass was blown out in hundreds of homes and even the massive steel doors of the port warehouses. A huge column of smoke rose above the city, and numerous signal flares were sent into the air.
Thinking that the city was under attack by the Japanese, many residents tried to take refuge in bomb shelters.
The Canadian merchant ship Green Hill Park, owned by the state-owned Park Steamship Company Limited and managed by the private firm Canada Shipping Company Limited, was burning at the pier, located just a hundred meters from the city center.
The burning ship belonged to a large series of dry cargo ships of the Park type, a kind of Canadian version of the famous American Liberty. In total, from 1941 to 1945, according to the design of the British company JL Thompson and Sons (they also designed the Liberty), 380 similarly designed Park and Fort type ships, as well as 20 tankers based on the Parks, were built at Canadian shipyards for Canada, Great Britain and the USA. 30 of them were lost during military operations.
Green Hill Park, which entered service in January 1944, had a gross tonnage of 7,130 GRT, a length of 129.39 m, a width of 17.37 m and a draft of 6.93 m. Five holds with tween decks were used to transport cargo. For self-defense, the ship had quite powerful artillery weapons, so on board, in addition to 34 crew members, there was also a unit of DEMS (Defensively Equipped Merchant Ships) gunners, usually seven people.
Loading of the ship for Australia began on February 27. The cargo mainly consisted of wood, newsprint and tin ingots. Small consignments included many items, from knitting needles and electric bulbs to sunglasses. But among them were also cargoes belonging to the dangerous category: 94 tons of sodium chlorate, seven and a half tons of signal flares and barrels of 60-degree whiskey. Moreover, dangerous goods, in violation of all regulations, were located in close proximity.
Sodium chlorate NaClO3 (not to be confused with sodium chloride NaCl) is a powerful oxidizer, which, when in contact with organic compounds (which includes alcohol), can lead to an explosion and fire.
Shortly before the events described, the British Ministry of War Transport sent a letter to the management of the Canada Shipping Company, which indicated that the loading of ships in Canada violated British regulations for the carriage of dangerous goods, which, in particular, stated that:
“Not more than 10 tons of sodium chlorate may be stored in one hold; sodium chlorate must be kept away from explosives (such as flares) and must be separated by a compartment in the engine room; sodium chlorate must not be stored near any flammable materials.”
The company’s management probably did not attach much importance to this letter or simply ignored it. The main thing for them was the speed of loading, because “time is money”. As a result, the port terminal workers responsible for loading the ship and her crew remained unaware of the danger of the cargo. This was also facilitated by the fact that more than 1,700 barrels of sodium chlorate did not have the required labels warning of their dangerous contents.
In complete violation of the “Rules for the Carriage of Dangerous Goods”, chemicals, rockets, whiskey, paper and other flammable cargo were loaded together in tween deck No. 3.
On March 6, one of the dockers noticed smoke rising from a stack of cargo in the corner of tween deck No. 3. Attempts to fight the incipient fire with fire extinguishers and a fire nozzle were unsuccessful.
The explosions occurred in the 3rd tween deck on the starboard side (the ship was moored with its port side to the berth). A powerful blast wave tore apart the steel bulkhead separating tween decks No. 2 and 3, tore out a piece of the starboard side and destroyed adjacent ship structures. The fire that broke out spread to a barge loaded with timber moored alongside.
At that time, there were about a hundred people on board the ship: dockers, crew members, and shore specialists busy in the engine room repairing the mechanisms. Six dockers and two sailors, whose cabins were located above the site of the explosion, died instantly. Many were thrown overboard by the explosion or jumped into the water themselves, saving themselves from the explosions and fire.
Tugboats quickly arrived and began rescuing people in the water, evacuating them from the burning ship, and extinguishing the fire. They were joined by shore fire brigades. With great difficulty, they towed the burning barge away from the Green Hill Park, as well as a steamship moored at the neighboring berth.
Since the fire in holds 2 and 3 was blazing ever more fiercely, it was decided to tow the ship to a muddy shoal opposite the port. In order to start the towing ropes, they had to look for volunteers willing to return to the burning steamship. According to their stories, the deck had already become almost unbearably hot.
However, the vessel clearly did not like the designated location and stubbornly refused to follow the tugs, describing intricate circulations (probably, the rudder blade was not in the center plane). Seeing the situation, the local naval leadership decided to take the burning steamer outside the port and sink it.
But the vessel resisted this decision and, having described a full circulation, ran aground, from which it was difficult to remove it and finally take it outside the port and push it onto the sandbank.
The fire was not extinguished until the following day, but the ship’s condition was assessed as “Constructive Total Loss”, meaning that its repair was deemed economically inexpedient. As a result of this tragedy, in addition to the eight dead, another twenty-six people, including seven firefighters, were injured.
The option of dismantling the surviving steam engine and boilers and cutting up the hull for metal was considered, but fate was kind to the long-suffering steamer. It was purchased by a Brazilian entrepreneur for only 9 percent of the original cost, and after repairs under the Panamanian flag and the name “Phaeax II”, the ship was put back into service. Changing owners, names and flags, the steamer served until 1968, when it was cut up “to needles” in Taiwan.
A multilateral commission was created to determine the causes of the disaster and find those responsible. Several versions of the causes of the emergency were put forward.
The theory of sabotage or diversion was quickly ruled out, and attention turned to the possibility of dockers smoking in the ship’s cargo holds, which was strictly prohibited, but, as the saying goes, “forbidden fruit is sweet.” This accusation was rejected by both the cargo terminal administration and the dockers’ union. As a weighty argument, the latter cited the decision of a recent union meeting. According to it, anyone caught smoking in prohibited areas was subject to a fine of $100 and immediate dismissal. A special duty officer not engaged in other work was appointed to monitor compliance with this ban.
It seemed that the investigation had reached a dead end, and so the commission moved on to what they considered the most likely version – a whiskey fire. The barrels of alcohol could have been opened by dockers eager for alcohol, or damaged during loading, and then accidentally lit a match or something similar, and… But there was no direct evidence of this, not counting the dockers’ overalls with sewn-in pockets with thermoses and food containers, possibly intended for carrying out the stolen alcohol, found in tween decks No. 2 and 3. But, contrary to this, it was believed that the cargo in the tween deck was packed so tightly that it was simply impossible to get to the coveted potion.
It should be noted that cargo theft in Canadian ports, and in Vancouver in particular, was a fairly common occurrence. Usually, not only port workers of various ranks were in on the deal, but even local police and customs officers.
Direct confirmation of this version appeared only 35 years after the events. In the early 1980s, a 91-year-old former Vancouver dockworker told a local reporter a remarkable story . According to it, in 1957, while a hospital patient, he got into a conversation with his dying roommate, also a former dockworker named Joe. And Joe revealed the secret of the Green Hill Park fire.
It turns out that a narrow passage to the coveted drink was already foreseen when the cargo was being stowed. And at one “wonderful” moment, when the whiskey was being poured, a heavily intoxicated loader decided to light the place and struck a match. Either the alcohol vapors that had accumulated in the confined space flared up, or the match fell into the spilled whiskey – a flame flared up, and the participants hurried to retreat, not only not trying to extinguish the fire, but also notifying about it.
The commission published its report on May 12, 1945, ten weeks after the incident. They particularly noted the explosiveness of sodium chlorate and whiskey vapors with a high alcohol content. The direct blame for the incident was placed on the unfound dockers who participated in the theft of whiskey. But the Canada Shipping Company got off scot-free.
Reprinted from Russian Military Review