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Arandora Star
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World War II and the role of the Arandora StarItalians in ScotlandArandora Star"Collar the lot !!"When Italy entered the war in June 1940, many Italians in Scotland were rounded up. Indeed it was Churchill himself who suspected a 'Fifth Column' of enemy nationals living in the UK and famously declared that they should 'Collar the lot!' Wives and mothers of most Italian families living in the UK had to fend for themselves - not only were their movements severely restricted but many of their adult males were shipped to Northern Ireland, the Isle of Man or Orkney with the intention to deport them to such places as Canada and Australia. Many of the women were also later interned and were sent to towns such as Beauly, Huntly and Tomintoul.
The tragedy of the Arandora Star The Arandora Star was built by Cammel Laird & Company of Birkenhead in 1927, operated by the Blue Star Line for cruises mostly to South America and South Africa. At the time the ship was regarded as the height of luxury and was popular with the rich and famous. She was referred to a The Wedding Cake because of her white hull and violet stripe. With the arrival of World War Two the Arandora Star was called up to Liverpool for its orders. It's main purpose was to deport prisoners of war, many bound for Canada. The Arandora Star set sail with the following passengers: Officers & Crew
174 However, the Arandora Star met its fate on July 2nd 1940 when a torpedo from a German submarine, the U-47, struck the ship, off the Irish coast. There were 734 Italians on board the ship, 486 died. Of the 479 Germans on board, 175 died. Canadian destroyer H.M.C.S. St. Laurent and later British destroyer, H.M.S. Walker arrived on the scene but sadly many were lost as they drowned not as a result of the sea itself but were caught in the scum of oil that was lost from the cruise ship. This incident caused an immediate investigation and though the British Government considered reversing their decision to transfer prisoners in this manner, it appears that many of the survivors were temporarily housed in Greenock (in a disused factory) before resuming their journey to Australia. En-route they once again suffered torpedo incidents and maltreatment from some of the guards. One of the survivors, Sgr. Baldelli recounts his experience in the form of a ballad (the translation of which I shall post on the website soon). Ironically, one of the Italian internees who perished in the Arandora Star was a Silvestro d'Ambrosio, a confectioner and restaurateur from Hamilton. Unbelievably, Silvestro lived in Scotland for 42 years, had one son in the British, and another in the Canadian Army. It is also understood that there was a significant number of people of Italian parentage who were actually born in Scotland, yet they too were on board the Arandora Star. Indeed celebrated author Joe Pieri himself had a lucky escape as he himself nearly boarded the ill fated Arandora Star, only to be told that it was full and was redirected to another ship. Today there have been countless calls to commemorate the tragic sinking of the Arandora Star with a day of remembrance. Perhaps a poignant thought on this tragedy as recalled by Bruno Sereni in They took the low road. 'Our countrymen left no memoirs, no diaries, no scribbled notes. The little that we know has been related to us verbally.' To some degree I believe that this also extends to the history of the Scots-Italian. Never again did Blue Star use the name Arandora in her fleet such was the large loss of life. Word has reached me from the Isle of Colonsay from Kevin Byrne of a recent memorial erected to the memory of the sad loss of those on the Arandora Star. See attached email below.
MEMORIAL TO ALL WHO PERISHED IN THE LOSS OF “ARANDORA STAR” The Arandora Star was sunk on July 2nd 1940, with the loss of more than 800 souls. Over 850 survivors were rescued by the Canadian destroyer HMCS “St Laurent” under Commander H.G. de Wolf but the remains of some hundreds of those who perished were never recovered. A small number were eventually carried by wind and tide to a landfall in Colonsay, including the remains of Giuseppe Delgrosso, a native of Borgo Val di Taro. He was brought ashore in a particularly beautiful corner of the island and it is hoped that a small memorial there will serve to preserve his memory and that of all who perished, including those whose only resting place is the sea. Sacred to the memory of Giuseppe Delgrosso and of more than 800 others who perished with "Arandora Star" July 2nd 1940 fo sgàil do sgiathan falaich mi Psalm 17, v. 8 This memorial has now been installed and it is to be dedicated on: Saturday 2nd July 2005 A warm invitation is extended to anyone who may wish to attend, including all who contributed towards the work and of course to all those who have a personal connection with the tragedy. On a practical note, please note that the site is fairly remote and entails a walk of more than 1 kilometre each way, across rough heather moorland. For further details of this or any other aspect please contact: Kevin Byrne, Homefield, Isle of Colonsay, Argyll PA61 7YR Telephone: 01951 200320Email: byrne@colonsay.org.uk
This poignant memorial was recently unveiled on the Isle of Colonsay to those who to the perished on the Arandora Star, in memory of Giuseppe Delgrosso one who died that fateful night on July 2nd 1940.
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Advert for a cruise on the ill fated liner
Arandora Star, pride of the fleet
Plaster cast made in Isle of Man prison camp
Cliffs off Douglas Head, Isle of Man
Porcini Mushrooms
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Readers, here is a message from Raffaello, son of an internee, can you (or do you know anyone that can) identify any of the internees in the photos below? Hello - I am Raffaello Gonnella , son of Renato Gonnella interned in Canada 1940 - 45. I have loads of information about Arandora Star and Internment in Canada but would like some help with the attached photographs in identifying who else is featured in these photographs along with my father.............hope you can post them on your site and help me in my quest...... Click to enlarge
Isle of Man Prison Camps The Isle of Man was the central focus for Italians interned in the UK during World War II. I believe there still exists a number of survivors who formed the original Prisoners Committee from the camp to this day. To the left is featured a plaster cast made in the camp, the
Blood, sweat, tears and….mushrooms. Accomplished author Peter Muccini recounts his experiences as a child growing up in Scotland during World War II in the following article....
Our family was awakened by a distressed Mrs Agolini who lived near us in Kilmarnock. The police had arrested her husband Vittorio and thrown her out on the street while they searched her house. She warned they would soon be calling on us and, sure enough, just as she said this, there was a loud banging on our door. One of the lawmen was Sergeant Nairn, a good friend of my Dad and he was very embarrassed and apologised profusely. However, the two others in plain clothes, probably from Special Branch, were cold and unpleasant. They told us they were going to confiscate any material they considered could be useful in espionage work. So they seized the wireless, an atlas, a Kodak camera, a pair of binoculars and a toy microscope, none of which was ever returned. We spent the night in the cells (which I found exciting) and were released the following morning. Dad was not interned because he had been in the country for almost 40 years, but his brother, Alessandro, was taken to the Isle of Man. Dad’s business was given to a local businessman who paid the absurd rent of £2 a week. This was dad’s only source of income so he was forced to become a garzone, an employee. To most of the older Italians of the time, used to being their own boss, this was humiliation and rather like being declared bankrupt. We were exiled to Newmilns, a sleepy village nine miles up the Irvine valley because Kilmarnock was a prohibited area with 20,000 troops stationed there including Poles, French and Canadians. We were under curfew and forbidden to leave our home between 1030 at night and eight in the morning. At first some of the villagers treated us with suspicion. Mum who used a small torch to find her way around in the blackout was reported once or twice for allegedly signalling to enemy aircraft. However, the hostility soon vanished. Some of the Italian girls had married local lads then serving in Dad’s Army (the LDV or Local Defence Volunteers, as it was then called, which later became the Home Guard). This and the fact that the younger generation of Italians were serving in the British forces persuaded the villagers that we were not fifth columnists. Nevertheless we were still kept under curfew and had to apply for permission to travel more than five miles from our home. There had been heavy rains followed by the warmth of an Indian summer and Dad said the local woods would be full of funghi porcini, those delectable wild mushrooms irresistible to Italians. The problem was that they had to be gathered before dawn because they would either be eaten by slugs or rot in the sun. Despite the curfew the exiles decided to rise early and go into the woods nearby. They reckoned they could fill their baskets and be back within an hour without anybody noticing it so they left me blissfully asleep and unaware of their expedition. “The
Germans have invaded,” he told me. All around me the grown-ups were pale
with fear while the kids seemed to be enjoying it all. “Where’s my Mum and Dad,” I asked. His reply filled me with dread. “They are under arrest for helping the
Germans.” Scared out of my wits I ran to the police station and was met by Sergeant Harper, a large, kindly, red-haired Highlander who was a friend of Dad’s. The sergeant tried to cheer me up with a mug of cocoa and a copy of the Beano but I was too upset and kept calling for my parents. “I shall ask you once more,” he thundered. “What were you doing in the woods?” “I have
already told you,” Dad replied with a hint of desperation in his voice.
“Gathering mushrooms.” “Mamma! Papà” I screeched. “Shut that door,” the man in the trench coat commanded. I carried on wailing and then, as Sergeant Harper kept trying to comfort me, the telephone rang. The call was for the man in the trench coat. He strode out of the interrogation room, picked up the phone and listened for a few moments before saying: “Good. Message received and understood.” Then he went back to the interrogation room and told the detainees: “All right you lot. Pick up your rubbish and clear off home.” Scarcely believing their luck, Mum, Dad and the others made themselves scarce. What had happened? That morning a gamekeeper told the police he had found dozens of German parachutes scattered about the woods. The police sounded the alarm and Newmilns was swiftly invaded by armed troops. They fanned out across the countryside and when they got to the woods they were confronted with Mum, Dad, Mr and Mrs Biagioni and Mrs Peri carrying baskets of mushrooms. They came to the conclusion that they were spies supplying sustenance to the enemy and immediately arrested them. “I thought they were going to put us up against a wall and shoot us,” Dad said later. Peter also reflects on how some others coped with the War years, living in Scotland under suspicion.... The contrast between the older generation who had retained their Italian citizenship and their offspring born in Britain was heavily tinged with bitter irony. Moreno Agolini subsequently served in the Royal Air Force (as did my brother Romeo) and his brother Elio joined the Cameronian Highlanders where he cut an imposing figure whenever he came home on leave in his dress uniform of kilt, tunic and Glengarry. The older generation, resident in Scotland for decades and known and well liked by the local population, were locked up as potential spies and many perished on the Arandora Star while their children were called up for military service and several gave their lives.
It was the normal practice for the King to present the Victoria Cross either to the recipient or posthumously to his next of kin. Donnini’s elderly parents, technically classified as enemy aliens, were initially not allowed to go to Buckingham Palace and the Victoria Cross was to be sent to them in the mail. However, Dennis Donnini's parents' great-great-granddaughter Amy Turner assures us that the King had to give his own personal permission for them to receive the award and they did indeed go to Buckingham Palace.
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This is a campaign to
make known the tragic events of June/July 1940 and the circumstances
surrounding the loss of the Arandora Star.
There was the amazing case of Dennis
Donnini, a 19-year-old private in the Royal Scots Fusiliers, who won the
Victoria Cross, Britain’s highest award for valour, in February 1945. Fusilier
Donnini, who was actually a Geordie Italian from Easington Colliery in
Northumberland, saved the lives of a dozen of his comrades by single-handedly
fighting back a German detachment in a Dutch village street battle. The citation
tells how Donnini lost consciousness when he was struck on the head by a
ricocheting bullet. After coming to, he ran 30 yards down the street through a
hail of bullets, lobbed a grenade into the house from where the enemy were
firing and put them to flight. Donnini then