By now, envious U.S. correspondents in the Middle East are convinced that Britain’s Mediterranean sea battles are run on the personal schedule of A.P.’s Laurence Edmund (“Larry”) Allen. With half a dozen scoops in his pocket, he brought forth a scorcher last week. When the British released news of the Galatea’s loss, they released Allen’s full version of the sinking. The original Allen story (TIME, Dec. 29) had told of a grueling seven-hour plane-ship duel. Last week’s story began where the other left off:
“At midnight on Dec. 15 the cruiser’s announcer system warned: ‘First degree readiness heavy armament.’ … I ran to the commander’s cabin and informed the Reuters Naval correspondent, Alexander Massy Anderson.
“Adjusting lifebelts, we stepped out in the inky blackness of the quarterdeck and raced toward the bridge. We had barely started when the first torpedo smashed into the after port side with a burst of flame, heavily rocking the Galatea. . . .” After two more torpedoes had struck the Galatea,
“the sharp heeling over of the ship flung me sliding down the starboard side into the sea. Hundreds of officers and seamen plunged into the water with me. Anderson had reached the starboard railing a little to the right of me. I heard him shout something to an officer as I slid into the sea. I never saw him again. . . .
“Several sailors had succeeded in getting off a small motorboat. . . . Trying to splash toward it, I went under again. . . . A score of others had the same idea. . . . Finally the motorboat tipped over, hurling us all into the sea.* I saw the black silhouette of a destroyer about 75 yards ahead. . . . I managed to propel myself forward and hang on to a ladder, safe, but so spent I couldn’t pull myself up. At that moment a life raft drifted against the destroyer’s side. It banged my head against the warship and I cried out time and again: ‘Stop it. You’re killing me.’
“A young British sailor aboard the raft saved my life. ‘I’ll help you,’ he shouted. ‘Get this rope under your arms.’ He passed a thick, heavy rope under my arms, tied it and flung the end to the quarterdeck of the destroyer. Three sailors slowly pulled me out of the oily mass.”
* Larry Allen was wearing a Mae West life-jacket; he cannot swim a stroke.
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