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DND, DHH photo, R/W Wetaskwin

As a result of quick action from engine room personnel, the saboteurs’ ultimate aim of keeping HMCS Wetaskwin – pictured here – alongside for an extended period was foiled.

Protesters or Traitors? Investigating Cases of Crew Sabotage in the Royal Canadian Navy: 1942-45

by Lieutenant (N) Richard O. Mayne

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When the Royal Canadian Navy (RCN) went to war in 1939, it was anticipated that enemy agents or citizens with radical affiliations would try to sabotage its warships. Four years later, however, it was discovered that there was another threat, and so a naval order was issued that instructed commanding officers on the procedures to follow in cases where a member (or members) of the crew had sabotaged the ship.1 Such an order was deemed necessary because naval intelligence officers in St. John’s and Halifax had been unable to solve a string of sabotage attempts where the most likely suspects were members of the crew. Initially, these officers thought they were dealing with traitors or even enemy agents, but as they gained more experience, they came to realize that these acts were being committed by ordinary sailors. At least a dozen cases of crew sabotage were investigated between 1942 and 1944, and it was suspected that many more had gone unreported. But investigating these matters was not easy. As a crew member, the saboteur had many advantages – such as unlimited access to the ship and knowledge of when rounds were conducted – that made it difficult to determine his identity. This article will explore the problems that the RCN faced when it investigated cases of crew sabotage, and argue that these acts were more likely the result of sailors with specific grievances rather than any subversive tendencies.

One of the earliest recorded cases of crew sabotage occurred on HMCS Eyebright in early March 1942. During a layover in St. John’s, Newfoundland, Eyebright’s generator was undergoing repairs. At the time of re-assembly, it was discovered that someone had removed an essential component that the repair staff had left unattended in the ship’s flats (its main hall or corridor).2 Although this had caused Eyebright to remain alongside for an extra two days, naval intelligence did not respond until three weeks later, when something similar happened during repairs to HMCS Cowichan’s main fans.3 Despite the parallels with the Eyebright incident, the Staff Officer (Intelligence) in St. John’s did not take this matter seriously as he assigned an inexperienced officer to investigate both cases. Quickly overburdened by the task at hand, this junior officer did not interview the crews or repair staff from either ship, and even failed to analyze the physical evidence that had been left behind by the perpetrators. Moreover, the determination that a crewmember or members onboard Eyebright and Cowichan had “sabotaged their ships with the intention to delay sailing” represented the opinion of the ship’s officers, rather than his own.4 Based upon these findings, the investigation was closed.

This was one of naval intelligence’s earliest encounters with crew sabotage in the RCN, and while they found the concept disturbing, it was concluded that the likelihood of further occurrences was remote. Instead, security authorities at the base turned their attention to protecting vessels from outside threats, particularly since it was discovered that there were “cases of people boarding ships and entering Naval Areas with passes signed by Hitler, Tojo, Hedy Lamarr and other enemies of mankind.” While considered an “old and sour joke,” such incidents suggested that security at St. John’s was lax, and that meant brow sentries were needed to “realize the importance of their job and do it properly.”5 Sailors protecting the ship from external threats, however, were ineffectual against crew saboteurs, and, four months later, these same security officers would develop a renewed interest in this subject when two more suspicious breakdowns were reported within days of each other.


DND, DHH photo 81/520/8000

A diagram used in Wetaskwin’s Board of Inquiry to show where the “foreign metal” (indicated by the two ovals) was found in the IP Dome.

Having been tasked as the duty ship on 29 August 1942, HMCS Wetaskiwin raised steam in preparation for sailing. After the engine had difficulty turning over, the ship’s Chief Engineer conducted a thorough check and found that someone had deliberately put two pieces of foreign metal in the IP dome, a component of the ship’s propulsion system. He immediately reported this incident.6 A few days later, the officers onboard the destroyer HMCS St. Laurent were dealing with a similar situation, as an examination of the ship’s engine revealed that someone had dumped metal filings into the lubricants for the pressure system and adjusting block.7 Quick action and early detection by engine room personnel in Wetaskiwin and St. Laurent prevented serious damage, and both ships’ sailing schedules remained uninterrupted. But this also meant that naval intelligence had to wait until there was a break in operations before they could conduct a full investigation.

It was not until early October that naval intelligence officers in St. John’s began to examine the Wetaskiwin incident, and their first suspicion was that there was a traitor or an enemy agent onboard. As a result, they contacted the Halifax detachment of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) and asked for background checks into the engine room ratings who handled the IP Dome. The RCMP was thorough. Not only did they look for subversive tendencies amongst these sailors, but also for any criminal activities that might make them vulnerable to blackmail. Nothing out of the ordinary was found. All were considered loyal citizens of Canada, and although some had previous records for public drunkenness, an RCMP sergeant felt that this just meant they were simply practicing to be sailors before actually enlisting.8 But if it was considered unlikely that the saboteur was either a subversive or traitor, why had he tried to disable the ship? In order to answer this question, the navy would first need to apprehend the responsible party, and they attempted to do this through a formal Board of Inquiry.

Identifying the saboteur proved more difficult than the board members had anticipated. For over two days, they listened to testimony from 10 witnesses, and then reviewed all the evidence that had been secured by naval intelligence. The board found it interesting that Wetaskiwin had been an “unhappy ship,” and that some crew members were more disgruntled than others.9 The problem was that none of these ratings could be placed in the engine room at the time of the sabotage. In fact, it was impossible to eliminate any member of the ship’s company as suspects, because the engine room had been left unattended during silent hours and rounds had not been conducted.10 Without more evidence, the Board was unable to draw any firm conclusions, other than that the sabotage had definitely been perpetrated by a member of the crew, with the intention of damaging the engine and making Wetaskiwin unseaworthy.

Although the Wetaskiwin incident had captured much attention, naval intelligence appeared to have forgotten about the St. Laurent. Having returned from escorting convoy ON 133, the St. Laurent had been waiting for naval intelligence to send investigators to look into their suspicious engine defects. But on the night of 8 October 1942, their patience ran out as the detection of new foreign material in the lubricating system indicated that the saboteur had struck again. Subsequently, an urgent message went out, requesting that an investigation be conducted immediately.11

Despite the findings from Wetaskiwin’s board of inquiry, however, naval intelligence jumped to the conclusion that there was a subversive onboard the St. Laurent. Given the size of the destroyer, naval intelligence quickly determined that it had neither the manpower nor the expertise to root out the traitor or spy, and so it turned to the Halifax RCMP and the Newfoundland Constabulary, as well as the local censor, for help. All of them were somewhat appalled at the size of the job, and, as a result, they then asked for some time to organize. These authorities were right to be cautious, as the investigation on the St. Laurent turned out to be massive. First, the entire ship was turned upside down as RCMP officers looked for secret writing materials and unusual equipment of any kind. Next, background checks were conducted on all 40 members of the engine room department, and historical sketches were prepared for the rest of the crew. Meanwhile, the censor examined the ship’s mail for hidden codes, secret writing, or some mention of the mechanical problems. Moreover, samples from the lubricating system were sent to two different government labs for analysis, which revealed that the foreign matter consisted of welding scale, paint, metal filings, sand, and two pieces of glass.12

All this effort produced only one suspect, who had sent a coded letter to a woman in Halifax. He was soon cleared, however, when it was ascertained that the only trust that this man had betrayed was the wedding vows of another sailor’s wife. Finding no evidence whatsoever of subversive activities, the RCMP began to wonder whether an act of sabotage had even been committed, noting as they did that the personnel of the ship demonstrated marked loyalty, not only to their country and to the navy, but also to their officers. This conclusion was later supported by RCMP marine experts, who filed a report suggesting that the substances found in the engine were more likely the product of normal wear and tear. In their final summation, therefore, it was found that:

“It is not considered that there exists very high probability of an act or acts of sabotage having been committed by anyone else. It is felt that physical causes within the ship’s system itself, and/or inadvertence during refit at Dartmouth, N.S. and perhaps subsequently, almost certainly explains the occurrences in question... It is noted that upon sailing A.M. 8th November, the ship’s lubricating system was thoroughly cleaned beyond question. Should a recurrence of these episodes be found upon her return, it is respectfully suggested that investigation may be reopened. Should no recurrence be found, however, it is requested that the writer and D/Sgt. Wruhleski may be instructed to proceed upon other duties.”13

While the naval investigators were beginning to second-guess their assumption that there was a traitor on board the St. Laurent, they were not so sure that the matter should be dismissed so quickly. In fact, a separate Board of Inquiry confirmed their suspicions, recording that they were of “the definite opinion that a person or persons of the ship’s company are responsible.”14 So why did the navy disagree with the RCMP? Quite simply, they had realized that too many mistakes had been made in the early stages of the investigation. This was also true for the inquiries into the incidents on Eyebright, Cowichan, and Wetaskiwin.


DND, DHH photo 81/520/8000 Box 206, File 30

Rear Admiral LW Murray reads an Admiralty telegram congratulating the crews of HMCS Wetaskwin and HMCS Skeena for their success over U-588. Murray then asked them to “go out and do it again.”

The central problem was that too much time had elapsed between the incidents and the point where the investigations commenced. Although sailing schedules did not always permit a quick reaction, it was determined that naval intelligence had, on average, taken three weeks to send investigators to the ship in question. As a result, testimony from witnesses became less reliable, and much evidence – such as fingerprints – was lost. Moreover, the fact that naval intelligence did not have any experience dealing with crew sabotage led to a number of critical errors. For example, 20 ratings had been transferred from the St. Laurent immediately after the second act of sabotage had been committed, and they were never questioned.15 Likewise, during Wetaskiwin’s Board of Inquiry, the commanding officer, Commander Guy Windeyer, had provided the names of three men he suspected of tampering with the IP dome – remarking that one probably kept watch while the other two committed the act. The day after the abortive sabotage attempt, all three of these men had jumped ship just prior to sailing. Eventually apprehended, they were charged with being absent without leave, but their possible link to this case of sabotage was never followed up.16 This indicated that more thorough investigative procedures were immediately required.


DND, DDH photo 81/520/8000, Box 201, File 11

Action with the enemy or prolonged operations at sea could lead to combat stress, and the need for a rest was likely cause of crew-sponsored sabotage. Seen here is the bow of HMCS St. Laurent quickly closing on its prey.

The original four cases investigated in St. John’s had sent a troubling message, as did the belief that many other incidents had gone undetected, or, worse yet, unreported. And that led to the uncomfortable conclusion that crew sabotage might be a common, and therefore more serious, problem than anyone had first anticipated. The immediate question, however, was what could be done to stop it. At first, naval security and intelligence officers explored preventive measures, such as requiring ships to maintain continuous watches in their engine rooms. But it was quickly determined that no ship had sufficient personnel to maintain this routine for sustained periods, and this idea was dropped. After discussing several other proposals, these security officers came to the reluctant conclusion that “it is not considered that any further steps can be usefully taken which will guard against [the] repetition of crew sabotage.”17 Since prevention was impossible, the other option was deterrence.

Although naval intelligence did not yet understand why these acts were being committed, they had ascertained that some sailors found it an effective means to keep the ship alongside. Any skilled stoker could potentially sabotage a ship in such a way that others would believe that it was a defect in the engine. In fact, even if the saboteur was not an engineer, or simply had become careless, the unsuccessful investigations on Eyebright, Cowichan, Wetaskiwin and St. Laurent, had set a dangerous precedent. Put another way, these botched investigations showed that it was relatively easy to get away with disabling a ship. Therefore, in order for deterrence to work, the key lay not in punishment – sabotage already carried a stiff penalty – but, rather, in apprehension.18 Simply put, they needed to catch a crew saboteur and then make an example of him. As a result, step-by-step guidelines were established that dictated how future cases of crew sabotage would be investigated.

But the Staff Officer (Intelligence) in St. John’s did not think that this was enough, and he told Naval Service Headquarters (NSHQ) in Ottawa as much. According to this report, the best chance the navy had of catching a crew saboteur was to hand such cases over to the Criminal Investigation Division (CID) of the Newfoundland Constabulary. A better option, however, was to bring “a RCMP detachment from Halifax to St. John’s for these duties,” as it was determined that this action would help avoid jurisdictional problems with a colony that was not yet a Canadian province. Other important recommendations followed, and are worth quoting in full since they identify the difficulties naval intelligence was having when investigating these cases. Whether handled by the Newfoundland CID or RCMP, the benefits of such an arrangement were:

  1. The investigation would be carried out from the beginning by men having professional training for the job. Naval Officers do not have this training.

  2. The investigators would be empowered to carry on their inquiries to civilian contacts and in other than Naval establishments. At present, the Police would have to be called to take over any work involving civilians or inquiries ashore such as banks, hotels and in shadowing suspects.

  3. The investigators would be unbiased amongst members of the same ship’s company and accept no one’s word, nor be influenced by friendships, acquaintance or rank.

  4. A large force would be available at short notice.19

While this officer had raised a number of legitimate points, NSHQ was unwilling to hand jurisdiction of these cases over to the either the Newfoundland Constabulary or the RCMP, and so instructed naval intelligence to carry on the best they could. But, as future investigations would soon prove, naval intelligence continued to experience difficulties in their attempt to catch crew saboteurs. So much so, that by late 1943, NSHQ finally issued a naval order that gave commanding officers express instructions on how to initiate an investigation in cases of suspected crew sabotage.20

Beginning with the convening of a Board of Inquiry into the “circumstances attending the suspected sabotage in HMCS Mellville,” naval intelligence investigated at least three other cases of crew sabotage throughout 1943.21 Between these subsequent incidents and the ones in 1942, a clear pattern had emerged. The instruments of choice were usually metal filings or rags that had been placed in a part of the engine that would result in the ship staying alongside for two or three days. Another interesting aspect of the investigations in 1943 was that naval intelligence had stopped looking for possible traitors amongst the crew. Unfortunately, without the proper resources, naval intelligence was never able to produce a saboteur, and this left two important questions unanswered. If these men were not subversives, what should they be considered, and why were they trying to sabotage their own ships? Preliminary research suggests that these men can best be defined as disgruntled sailors, and that there are three primary reasons why they took their frustrations out on the ship.

The first possibility is that some of the saboteurs might have been suffering from combat fatigue. Prior to all of the incidents, the ships in question had spent a considerable amount of time at sea, and, in some cases, in action with the enemy. Moreover, the sabotage was almost always committed during a layover; either just after the ship returned alongside or prior to sailing for another operation. Take, for example, Wetaskiwin, which, having participated in the sinking of U-588 on 31 July, made another two transatlantic crossings (convoys HX 202 and ON 121) and was ready for a third (convoy SC 98) before the saboteur struck. Tasked as the duty ship during her brief four-day layover, Wetaskiwin was in the process of raising steam to go to the aid of a stricken merchantman when the sabotage was discovered.22 Equally compelling is the fact that the other cases of suspected sabotage in 1942 occurred at peak periods when the RCN was most active on the North Atlantic run.23 As a result, the fact that the sabotage was conducted on the engines and was intended only to delay the ship from sailing, suggests that these attempts were the product of overly stressed sailors, who simply wanted a short break from operations.


DND, DHH photo 81/520/8000, Box 201, File 11

A crew photo of HMCS St. Laurent demonstrates the difficulty with investigating cases of suspected sabotage. Given the nature of the crime every crewmember was technically a suspect at the beginning of an investigation.

Another possible reason is that the sabotage was committed by sailors who were having personal problems at home – such as marriage troubles or an illness in the family – and had been denied a leave of absence or transfer. Certainly, it was uncovered in two of the 1943 investigations that there were specific crewmembers who were dealing with some type of crisis in their personal lives. Both had been denied a leave of absence, and that raised the possibility that they had sabotaged the ship in the hopes that it would be interpreted as an engine defect, thereby allowing them to go ashore and tend to their personal matters.24 As incredible as this might sound, naval intelligence certainly believed it was possible. When compared to the ‘suspected saboteur alternative’ of either going Absent Without Leave (AWOL) or deserting, temporarily disabling the ship without anyone realizing it was intentional became an attractive option, since the chances of getting caught were so low. In contrast, the shore patrol knew the identity of a sailor who had jumped ship from the moment it was discovered that he was missing. And once caught, that sailor could expect a punishment that would range from six to 18 months in jail, along with a deduction in pay, and – in the case of desertion – a dishonourable discharge.25 But it is doubtful that personal troubles at home can account for most, if any, of the sabotage cases. If this were the primary motivation, it would mean that all the saboteurs would have had to have families in either the St. John’s or Halifax areas, and this seems highly improbable.

Instead, the most likely motive behind the majority of these incidents was that the saboteurs had a grievance with their commanding officer. This was certainly a possibility in the Eyebright incident, as one of the ship’s officers had told the investigator that the man most suspected on the ship had “a problem with the CO... [and] I think he chucked the piece over the side out of spite or not wanting to sail with him anymore.”26 Incidentally, the CO had this suspect transferred the day after the investigator left the ship.

Likewise, it is interesting that the incidents on St. Laurent occurred when the ship was in the midst of a command change. While searching for a replacement for the previous CO, Lieutenant-Commander E.L. Armstrong, NSHQ gave Commander Hugh Pullen temporary command of the ship so that St. Laurent could go to sea with a convoy. But the transition from Armstrong, who was very popular with the crew, to Pullen’s particular leadership style was not entirely smooth. As one senior non-commissioned officer observed, “...coming from a captain like Armstrong and running into a pusser [one who operates strictly ‘by the book.’] individual like Pullen, was a drastic change... he was threatening to run anyone in that didn’t have his life-belt on, ...and followed the routine to the book, and all the rest of it... He had the knack of making everyone hostile.”27 As a result, it is extremely odd that by the time the investigation was finished there had been “apparent sabotage on three occasions,” all of which had transpired during Pullen’s brief period in command.28 While it is still uncertain whether an act of sabotage was committed, such a coincidence does seem to suggest that a sailor (or sailors) was sending a message that he did not like the ship’s new routine.

Ironically, Pullen’s relief was Windeyer, who had just finished testifying about the incident onboard Wetaskiwin. During that testimony, Windeyer had told the board that there was a disgruntled element amongst the crew, consisting of three engineers and one Bos’n Mate, who did not like the way he (Windeyer) was running the ship. Windeyer was convinced that these men had tried to sabotage the ship on three separate occasions before the one being investigated, and was frustrated that he was never able to prove his suspicions. As a result, in May 1942, he transferred the ringleader of the disgruntled element off the ship in the hopes that this would prevent any further sabotage attempts.29 But Windeyer was frank with the board as he stated that he was also tired of this senior engine room rating’s constant bickering, and then he suggested that the sabotage in August might have been an act of revenge by the remaining members of this group.30

Whether these men had legitimate grievances against Windeyer is difficult to determine. A clue, however, can be found in a March 1943 report written by the Flotilla Engineering Officer in Halifax. After inspecting Wetaskiwin’s engine room, this officer was greatly disturbed by serious problems that were a product of “a lack of supervision and internal organization. The lack of interest shown by the Commanding Officer regarding the Engine Room Department during inspection was apparent, and also reflected the adverse conditions.”31 While this attitude may have led some in the engine room to dislike Windeyer, it does not appear that everyone onboard shared their resentment. Indeed, accounts on Windeyer’s personality vary, as one man who served under him found that “he was very good. A very hard working fellow, very knowledgeable, not quite so pusser... Everyone liked him.”32 While yet another observed that “he was an interesting man but you had to know your place with Windy. One moment he’d have his arm around you, saying ‘Great work.’ The next he’d be saying ‘Stand at attention when you speak to the captain.”33 Other accounts reveal a similar tale, and suggest that Windeyer was a capable but eccentric officer whose particular command style may have confused and upset some crewmembers. As a result, successful sabotage attempts affected the ship’s relative efficiency and therefore would reflect on the individual commanding officer as well.

A similar situation was evident on HMCS Sarnia in late 1943, when this ship was hit by two sabotage attempts while in Halifax and a third while in St. John’s. Suspicion fell on a group of three engineers. According to other crewmembers, these stokers had developed a close bond that was based on their common misery onboard ship. Although naval intelligence also learned that one of these men had been openly hostile to the CO, the investigators were unable to collect enough evidence that would warrant an arrest.34 The ship’s CO was clearly disappointed by the investigation’s results, and one month after these incidents, he requested that a senior engine room rating be transferred off the ship stating: “It is thought the standard of discipline would be improved by [his] removal.”35 It would seem that this CO, like many before him, tried to get rid of the ringleader by having him transferred.

Of course, this did not necessarily mean that all these individuals were saboteurs. But this pattern of transferring suspects or ringleaders is strange, and it suggests that there might have been numerous unreported cases of crew sabotage within the navy. With COs apparently taking matters into their own hands, however, there was simply no way to tell. Indeed, the navy was well aware that a captain was unlikely to admit that a case of crew sponsored sabotage had occurred onboard ship because it “cast on his capability to handle his own affairs.” And they had good reason for concern, as at least one staff officer was convinced that the best way to deal with such situations was to draft the “ships company, not least engine room crew, in small groups to other ships or shore estab[lishments].” Such drastic moves, therefore, would serve as a signal to the fleet that there was something wrong on that particular ship and that could translate into an admission that the CO had failed.36


DND, DHH photo 81/520/8000, Box 201, File 11

Members of the RCMP searched HMCS St. Laurent from stem to stern in the Fall of 1942 looking for evidence of a saboteur.

But while this perhaps sheds light on the reason why these acts occurred, the task of placing crew sabotage into a larger context remains. And to do that, it is first necessary to explore the Canadian experience with mutiny, which represented a more dramatic expression of sailor protest. Indeed, naval historians have identified a number of commonalties between the string of “incidents” (an RCN euphemism for mutiny) that rocked the navy throughout the 1940s. Often perpetrated by a sizeable portion of the crew, these mutinies were characterized by sailors locking themselves in their mess-decks until their grievances were addressed. An unpopular change in the ship’s routine or a problem with a specific officer – generally the CO or executive officer – was usually at the root of the dissatisfaction.37 As best demonstrated by the July 1943 case of HMCS Iroquois, in which a crew of 190 refused to fall in, mutiny was a highly visible and collective act which, as one historian has observed, was akin to “what the Congress of Industrial Organization would have called a ‘sit-down strike.’ ”38 Moreover, there was little doubt about what the mutineers wanted, particularly since it was not an uncommon practice for some of them to nail a list of their complaints on the door of their respective messes.


DND, DHH photo 81/520/1000, Box 143, File 29

For right or for wrong, suspicion of crew-sponsored sabotage often fell upon engineers because of their technical knowledge.

Such an understanding of the Canadian experience with mutiny is important because it makes it possible to draw certain conclusions with respect to crew-sponsored sabotage. For example, mutiny was not the only form of sailor protest that shared characteristics with various types of civilian labour unrest. In fact, the very definition of “sabotage” makes clear that the activities on Canadian warships were more akin to the civilian act of doing “damage to work, tools, machinery, and so on, by workmen, against an employer so as to stop production,” rather than the word’s military meaning.39 But unlike mutiny, which involved large numbers of discontented sailors, sabotage was an individual act that allowed a sailor, or, at most, a small group of seamen to vent the frustrations that other crewmembers may not have shared. Given that they obviously did not want to get caught, those who expressed their anger in such a fashion were never in a position to reveal their particular complaint. Put another way, tampering with a piece of equipment would become meaningless if the saboteur risked early detection by nailing up a list of grievances beside his handiwork. For right or for wrong, it was also an activity in which suspicion often fell upon a specific trade, as it was assumed that sabotaging a ship would require knowledge that only an engineer would possess. Nevertheless, there is little doubt that those who found it an effective form of individual protest did so because it served as a means to relieve stress. While the navy did have strong suspicions in a number of cases, no one was ever prosecuted for sabotaging his own ship.

Naval intelligence continued to investigate suspected cases of crew sabotage throughout 1944 – including one instance where a depth charge was dropped off the stern of HMCS Annapolis while alongside40 – but the fact that a saboteur was never caught was not naval intelligence’s fault. Requests to NSHQ for the RCMP to assume jurisdiction indicate that they had neither the expertise nor the manpower to look into these incidents thoroughly. But their investigations clearly identify that these crew saboteurs were not traitors. Instead, it would appear that crew sabotage was indeed a form of protest, the more so since all the documented cases clearly show that the attempt was directed at temporarily disabling the ship rather than causing any permanent damage. While the evidence still suggests that these individuals had a grievance with the commanding officer, it should also be considered likely that combat fatigue played a role, particularly since the pressure of sustained operations undoubtedly added to the saboteur’s sense of frustration.

CMJ Logo

Lieutenant Mayne, a naval officer and historian, is currently a doctoral student in History at Queen’s University.


  1. Directorate of History and Heritage (DHH) Library, Canadian Naval Orders, 3266, 18 December 1943. For information on enemy subversives and the threat of sabotage on Canadian soil see: National Archives of Canada (NAC), Record Group (RG) 25, Vol. 1967, 1939-867-A, Protection against sabotage in Canada, 1939-1943.; NAC, RG 24, Vol. 3898, 1035-2- 1, Espionage and Sabotage – German, 1939-1943.; NAC, RG 24, Vol. 3899, 1035-3-1, Espionage and Sabotage – Japanese, 1940.
  2. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300 v.1, Staff Officer Intelligence St. John’s to the Captain of the Port, “Suspicious Incidents during repairs to ships,” 16 April 1942.; DHH, 81/520/8000, HMCS Eyebright movement cards.
  3. DHH, 81/520/8000, Brief History of HMCS Cowichan, nd.; DHH, Ship’s Movement Cards, HMCS Cowichan.Ä
  4. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300 v.1, Staff Officer Intelligence St. John’s to Director Naval Intelligence Ottawa, “Sabotage (HMCS Cowichan and Eyebright), 17 April 1942.
  5. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1950-146/25, v. 1, Security, Spring 1942.
  6. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, Security Intelligence Officer to the Staff Officer Intelligence, 31 August 1942.; NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11930, NSC 331/114, Vol.1, Commander (E) W. Morrison, 03 October 1942.
  7. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945- 300, v.1, NSHQ to FONF, Re: Board Inquiry 09 September 1942 Bearing Deposits HMCS St. Laurent, 10 October 1942 and Government Laboratory Analytical Results, September 1942.
  8. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11714, HMCS Wetaskiwin, September 1942; NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, Staff Officer Intelligence Halifax to Staff Officer Intelligence St. John’s, 30 September 1942.and Various RCMP Reports on same file, September 1942.
  9. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11790, HMCS Wetaskiwin, Various Documents, March 1941 – March 1942.
  10. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11930, NSC – 331/114, v.1, “Board of Inquiry into the Circumstances attending Engine Room defects of HMCS Wetaskiwin,” 02 October 1942.
  11. DHH, Ship’s Movement Cards, HMCS St. Laurent.; NAC, RG 24, Vol. 5684, Report of Proceedings for September as well as October 1942.
  12. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, NSHQ to FONF, 2230/29 October 1942 and Staff Officer (Intelligence) to FONF, 16 October 1942.
  13. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1 JCK McKaught and D/Sgt Wruhleski to FONF, 11 November 1942.
  14. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, FONF to NSHQ, 2043/ 27 October 1942.
  15. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 5834, NS8000-353/25, Crew lists, September and October 1942.; NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, Changes in Complement, October 1942.
  16. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11930, NSC – 331/114, v.1, “Board of Inquiry into the Circumstances attending Engine Room defects of HMCS Wetaskiwin,” 02 October 1942.
  17. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11930, 1150-331/114, v. 1, Commander (E) Morrison, October 1942.
  18. DHH, 81/520/1540-12, Defence of Canada Regulations, 1942.
  19. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1950-146/25, v.1, Staff Officer (Intelligence) to Flag Officer Newfoundland Force, Procedure for Handling suspected sabotage, 16 October 1942.
  20. Directorate of History and Heritage (DHH) Library, Canadian Naval Orders, 3266, 18 December 1943.
  21. DHH, 81/520/8000, Re: COAC 55-2-1/189 22 February 1943, Report by JA McLean, 17 August 1944.
  22. DHH, 81/520/8000, HMCS Wetaskiwin Movements from August 1941 to March 1943, and “A Brief History of HMCS Wetaskiwin, nd [circa 1965].
  23. For the best account of RCN operations in 1942 see: WAB Douglas, Roger Sarty and Michael Whitby, No Price Too High (St. Catherine’s, 2003), Chapters nine and ten.
  24. The ships in question were HMCS Sarnia and HMCS Prince Rupert.
  25. DHH, 82/401, Vol. 4, Men of the Canadian Naval Service Tried by Court Martial, Various dates. DHH Library, King’s Regulations and Admiralty Instructions, Vol. I, Chapter XII, Section VI, pp 252-257.
  26. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, Suspicious incidents during repairs to ships, 16 April 1942.
  27. DHH, BIOG M, Report of Interview with Petty Officer William Moodie McLean, by Hal Lawrence, 1 October 1983.
  28. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, FONF to NSHQ, 1415/23 October 1942.
  29. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11569, 27-C-20, “Difficulties – Saturday 16 May,” Windeyer to Captain (D) Halifax, 16 May 1942.
  30. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11930, NSC – 331/114, v.1, “Board of Inquiry into the Circumstances attending Engine Room defects of HMCS Wetaskiwin,” 02 October 1942.
  31. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11569, 27-C-20, Flotilla Engineer Officer Report on HMCS Wetaskiwin to Captain (D) Halifax, 20 March 1943.
  32. DHH, BIOG M, Report of Interview with Petty Officer William Moodie McLean, by Hal Lawrence, 1 October 1983.
  33. DHH, BIOG H, Report of Interview with Rear Admiral Daniel Lionel Hanington, by Hal Lawrence, nd [circa 1942].
  34. DHH, 81/520/8000, HMCS Sarnia, Various documents, December 1943 to April 1944.; NAC RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, “Possible Sabotage HMCS Sarnia,” Staff Officer (Intelligence) to FONF, 23 November 1943 and “Possible Sabotage HMCS Sarnia, Staff Officer (Intelligence) to Director of Naval Intelligence, 31 December 1943.
  35. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, Captain D Newfoundland to Captain D Halifax, 2010/05 April 1944.
  36. NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, Staff Officer notes, October 1942 and 1950-146/25, v.1,Staff officer (Intelligence) to FONF, 16 October 1942.
  37. Michael Whitby, Matelots, Martinets, and Mutineers: The Mutiny in HMCS Iroquois, 19 July 1943, The Journal of Military History 65/1 (January 2001), pp. 77-103.
  38. Bill Rawling, Only “A Foolish Escapade by Young Ratings?” Case Studies of Mutiny in the Wartime Royal Canadian Navy, Northern Mariner, X/2 (April 2000) 59.; For more on the post war mutinies see: Richard Gimblett, “Too many Chiefs and Not Enough Seaman:” The Lower-Deck Complement of a Postwar Canadian Navy Destroyer Northern Mariner, IX/ 3 (July 1999) 1-22; and Richard Gimblett, What the Mainguy Report Never Told us, Canadian Military Journal, 1/2 (Summer 2000), pp. 87-94.
  39. World Book Dictionary, (Toronto, 1972), p.1812.
  40. For more information on Annapolis see: DHH, 81/520/8000, “Brief History of HMCS Annopolis, 06 November 1959.; NAC, RG 24, Vol. 11942, 1945-300, v.1, Security (Intelligence) officer to Staff officer (Intelligence), “Suspected attempt to sabotage HMCS Annapolis,” 10 March 1944.