Orders, Decorations, Medals and Militaria

Three: Able Seaman F. L. G. Ellissen, Royal Navy, a D.E.M.S. Gunner who died at sea on 12 September 1942, when the Cunard White Star liner, S.S. Laconia was torpedoed and sunk by U-156 in shark-infested waters off West Africa, with 1,800 Italian Prisoners of War aboard: on learning of this, the U-Boat commander commenced rescue operations, but his admirable endeavours, and those of other U-Boats that joined the scene, were quickly curtailed by an unfortunate attack delivered by Allied aircraft - and the transmittal of Doenitz’s notorious ‘Laconia Order’

1939-45 Star; Atlantic Star; War Medal 1939-45, with named Admiralty enclosure, in card box of issued addressed to Mrs. I. M. M. Ellissen, 6 Cardigan Road, Richmond Hill, Surrey’, nearly extremely fine (3) £100-£140

Francis Lyon Gordon Ellissen was born in Richmond, Surrey in 1918. He served in the Royal Navy in the Second World War with service number D/JX 199792, as an Able Seaman and a Defensively Equipped Merchant Ship Gunner. He was killed in action when the S.S. Laconia was sunk by U-156 on 12 September 1942, and is commemorated on the Plymouth Naval Memorial.

S.S. Laconia
The S.S. Laconia was homeward bound from the Cape in September 1942, with some 2,700 people aboard, including 1,800 Italian Prisoners of War under a 160-strong Polish guard, when she was torpedoed by the U-156, commanded by Kapitain Werner Hartenstein, on 12 September 1942, in a position about 500 miles south of Cape Palmas, Liberia and about 360 miles north-east of Ascension Island. Shortly after the liner capsized, the crew of the now surfaced U-Boat were amazed to hear Italian voices yelling amongst the survivors struggling in the water, and on speaking to some of them, Werner Hartenstein immediately began rescue operations, alerting at the same time nearby U-Boats to come to his assistance. Also by radio he contacted his seniors in Germany, asking for instructions and, more courageously, sent out an un-coded message inviting any nearby ships to assist, allied or otherwise, promising not to attack them on the basis his U-Boat, too, was left unmolested. And amazingly, to begin with at least, Berlin replied in the affirmative, although Hitler personally intervened to threaten Admiral Raeder in the event of any U-Boats being lost to enemy action as a result of the rescue operation. Over the next few days, Hartenstein’s ‘rescue package’ achieved commendable results, and by 16 September, U-156 had picked up around 400 survivors, half of which she towed astern in lifeboats, while other enemy U-Boats, the U-506 and the U-507, and the Italian Cappellini, had arrived on the scene and acted with similar compassion.

Tragically, on 16 September, an American Liberator bomber, operating out of Ascension Island, attacked the gathered U-Boats, forcing Hartenstein and his fellow captains to cut their tows with the lifeboats and submerge. Mercifully, some Vichy French warships arrived on the scene soon afterwards from Dakar, and in total, including those still aboard the U-Boats, some several hundred men, women and children were saved. But two lifeboats remained undiscovered, their occupants having to endure a living nightmare, adrift without adequate sustenance, under a burning sun, with sharks for company, for several weeks.

Following his enforced departure from the scene of rescue on 16 September, Kapitain Hartenstein remained in contact with Berlin, in a vain attempt to complete his worthy task. In the event, he, and his fellow U-Boat commanders, received Doenitz’s infamous ‘Laconia Order’, forbidding any attempt to assist survivors of sunken vessels, a diktat that mercilessly rewrote the conduct of sea warfare (and became one of the charges levelled at the Grand Admiral at Nuremberg).

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