Blog No. 27 – April 16, 2025

The story of this tragedy has been published many times on the anniversary of the explosion and was told by a number of people who were there and published by their descendants. Here’s one published on the U.S. Naval Institute website that you can read right here and now:

The Bombay Explosion

by Lieutenant Edward F. Oliver, U. S. Coast Guard, March 1957

While everyone knows that the atomic blasts over Hiroshima and Nagasaki were the greatest explosions of World War II, few have ever heard of the greatest dynamite-gunpowder explosion of the war or realize that the Allies suffered from its effects. It was the Bombay explosion of April 14, 1944—an explosion that nearly wiped out the “Gateway to India” and destroyed or damaged nearly 100,000 tons of Allied shipping, Thursday, April 14, dawned fair, and the Pungent earthy smell of the coal braziers in the streets of Bombay hung heavy in the air. The chief mate on the SS Fort Stikene, tired after a night’s watch, yawned and scrawled an entry in the log book:

“0600—Vessel secured starboard side to dock No 1 Victoria Docks. Five day stevedore gangs relieve night gangs and continue discharging baled cotton from Nos. 1, 2, 3 lower holds; and, general cargo from Nos. 4 and 5 ’tween decks. Specie locker in No. 2 hold remains blocked by baled cotton. No smoking signs posted. Explosive flag hoisted at truck. Routine inspection of decks.”

There was nothing about the Fort Stikene’s appearance to distinguish her from a hundred other emergency-built ships of the same class. A freighter of 7,000 tons, she had been launched on the Clyde less than a year before, the English counterpart of the Liberty ship. In her holds, however, she had a cargo not only unique but deadly—1,500 tons of ammunition and high explosives; 3,000 tons of cotton; and 155 ingots of gold bullion. The latter, stowed in the specie locker and valued at $5,000,000, was consigned to the Bank of India to help stabilize the rupee.

The uneven roar of steam winches on deck continued throughout the morning and into the early afternoon as the cargo hooks swung back and forth between dock and hatch. Suddenly, at 1418 hours, the cadence of winches and waterfront activity came to a halt as the air was pierced by a series of short blasts from a ship’s whistle—followed by another—and another—until the shrill blasts and their echoes merged into one ear-splitting sound. The loungers beneath the slowly revolving fans in the Taj Mahal Hotel bar, a mile away, paused for a moment over their gin and tonic, but the meaning of the signal was lost on them. The meaning was not lost on the men of the thirty ships in the harbor, though; and, in spite of the heat of the midday sun, a chill settled over the water. All hands could make out the bright red of the flag which waved at the Fort Stikene’s truck—the sailor’s dread—an ammunition ship was on fire.

A native working in No. 2 hatch was the first to sound the alarm. As he rested against a bale of cotton, he was horrified to see a puff of smoke ooze up from between two bales. He shouted to the hatch boss who ran aft shouting, “Fire! Fire!” There was confusion for a moment as officers and sailors were shocked into action. The mate on watch hurdled down the gangway to the dockside telephone. Hoses were run out fore and aft and curses flew as nervous hands fumbled with spanners and couplings.

Within minutes of the first alarm, two large pumpers from the port fire brigade roared up on the quay. Following by car was Colonel J. R. Sadler, H. M. Royal Engineers, superintendent of the Bombay Port Trust, who assumed command of firefighting operations. The Colonel ran up to No. 2 hatch just as the Captain and mate climbed out from the smoke filled ’tween deck. Their eyes streaming, they reported that a hurried inspection of the top tier of bales had disclosed no evidence of sabotage. “One of the bales must have been damp and ignited from spontaneous heating,” the Captain gasped. “We’ve got to work fast! The explosives are stowed under the cotton!”

By this time, several streams of water were pouring into the hold, and for the moment the men in charge were not overly apprehensive. However, what first appeared to be only a small blaze soon proved to be more than the two pumpers could cope with, and additional calls for help went out. By 1500 hours, a major portion of the city’s fire department lined the quay—seven large pumpers, eleven trailer pumps, seven hook and ladders, and auxiliary equipment.

Colonel Sadler stood on the hot steel deck of the Fort Stikene and pondered over the last and most difficult decision he was ever to make. A dour, competent Scotsman, he had served his Majesty faithfully in two world wars. In retrospect, it is something of an understatement to say that on this occasion he made the wrong decision. However, before any opinion can be made of his judgment, it should be realized that there were several complicating factors involved, not to mention the safety of $5,000,000 of the King’s gold.

There is one accepted principle in fighting fire on a ship loaded with explosives and that is if all other means of extinguishing it fail, scuttle the ship rather than let her explode.1 Undoubtedly, the Colonel was aware of this principle; however, such an operation was not a simple matter. The Fort Stikene drew twenty feet aft and the depth of the tidal basin was 26 feet, barely enough water to cover the double bottoms. This meant that to effectively scuttle her, the ship had to be moved to deep water in the outer harbor.

To appreciate his dilemma, one must be familiar with the unusual layout of the port of Bombay. The docking facilities consist of three adjacent tidal basins, Victoria, Prince’s, and Alexandra docks, each covering about thirty acres of muddy water and each having docking space for approximately 25 ships. The depth of water in each basin is kept from falling to the low tide level by means of watertight gates which are only Opened for traffic at or near high water.

The Sailing Directions contain the following note:

“Ships can be taken into the docks only from about two and one quarter hours before time of high water to one half hour after time of high water.”

The channel leading from the basins to the outer harbor also complicates a ship’s departure. It is dredged only to a depth of 17 feet at mean low water. On this particular day, high water was at 1700 hours and mean stage of tide was eight feet. There was one other important factor to consider. Alongside the dock, the large array of shoreside fire equipment could be used to extinguish the blaze; but once she left the dock and headed for the outer harbor, only the ship’s few hoses could be used.

With the foregoing factors to consider, the Colonel made his decision. Apparently he decided that it would take too long to move the ship to the outer harbor and that she might explode before she could be scuttled. Whatever his reasoning, we know now that he did not order the ship out of the basin, and what started out as a smoking bale of cotton developed into a conflagration not to be extinguished for two weeks.

By 1600 hours the Fort Stikene was a smoldering 7,000-ton time bomb and time was fast running out. A dark ominous cloud of smoke hung over the scene and we can only speculate at the thoughts in the minds of the men who manned the hoses. The ship listed uneasily, fat and heavy, as tons of water cascaded into her holds. Her steel sides were a cherry red and clouds of steaming vapor rose from the harbor water.

At 1604 the inevitable occurred. Twenty miles away a native paused behind his plow and looked about as a hot gust of air suddenly swept against his bare skin. A tremendous blast like the broadside of a hundred fleets engulfed Bombay, a blast that shattered every building within a one-quarter mile radius and annihilated every living thing in the immediate area. One minute the Fort Stikene lay at the dock; the next minute she had disintegrated in a great sheet of flame and smoke. Steel fragments, golden ingots, and bodies mushroomed one thousand feet into the sky.

A tidal wave rolled through the basin snapping hawsers like strings and mercilessly pounding the ships against the stone quays. Flames rose from their decks, burned men screamed in agony, and the acrid odor of cordite smoke hung over the water. Fifty yards astern the SS Japalanda, a 5,000-ton coaster, was plucked from the water as though by a giant hand and flung over the adjoining quay, a total loss with a broken back. A three-ton anchor from the Fort Stikene hung precariously from a ship’s yardarm 1,000 yards away. Fifty godowns (warehouses) were flattened, spewing thousands of tons of grain, food-stuffs, ammunition, and other war supplies out on the ground. Seventy-five freight cars in the area were tossed about like match sticks. The eighteen fire engines and their crews vanished from the face of the earth.

One mile away an elderly Hindu squatted on the floor of his hovel. Suddenly, a 28- pound gold ingot ($30,000) plummeted through the roof and landed at his feet. No report has ever been made as to how many of the 155 ingots were recovered.

While the devastation ashore was extensive, the damage to the ships in the docks was appalling. Here was a blow to the Allied war machine beyond the wildest dream of a potential saboteur. More tonnage was destroyed in one minute than German submarines had sunk in days of convoy attacks. Eleven ships in Victoria and Prince’s Docks, were left twisted and fire-gutted hulks, a total loss of 50,000 tons: SS Fort Stikene, SS Japalanda, SS El Hind, SS Rod El Farag, SS Tinombo, SS General Van Sweiten, SS Graciosa, SS Baroda, SS Iran, SS General Van Den Heyden, and the SS Kingyuan. The remaining nine vessels were heavily damaged: SS Empire Indus, SS Norse Trader, SS Fort Crevier, SS Belray, SS Jalavijaya, SS Changon, SS Capsa, SS Braganza, and the SS Padmaviti. Typical of the damage sustained was that suffered by the SS Fort Crevier, a 7,000-ton freighter whose bridge and midship house were gutted by fire, hull badly buckled from forward to aft, main and ’tween decks badly sagged, and cargo damaged.

United States shipping fared well in comparison with her Allies. Fortunately, a ^short time before the explosion, the 20,000-ton transport SS Mariposa, with 4,000 American soldiers on board, and two American freighters had steamed out of the harbor. This left only the SS Henry J. Raymond in Alexandra Dock and the ships in that dock, one-half mile from the scene, received only superficial damage from the flying debris.

While U. S. forces fortunately suffered little, they contributed greatly to bringing order out of chaos. Within a few minutes of the blast, Colonel Richard W. Hocker, USA, commanding officer of U. S. forces, issued an order to his command, “Proceed to the dock area and render every assistance.” The order had scarcely been issued before more than 1,000 American soldiers were racing at breakneck speed through narrow streets m jeeps, weapons carriers, and trucks. Their mission had a particular urgency since many of the godowns near the docks contained ammunition. It was imperative that it be removed to a safe place before fire swept the area. Under Colonel Hocker’s direct supervision, the soldiers, assisted by volunteers from the U. S. Navy Armed Guard and the merchant crew of the SS Henry J. Raymond, carried out the hazardous job. They worked tirelessly through the night in the scorching glare of the encroaching flames. By early next morning, an estimated 1,500 tons of explosives had been moved from the area.

Following the explosion, a hundred fires that were started by the flaming debris gradually merged into one raging conflagration. Fanned by an unseasonal monsoon breeze, the fire moved northward toward the heart of the city. By nightfall it appeared that a large section of the city might well be doomed. Towering pillars of flame and smoke from burning oil storage tanks were visible 75 miles away.

At daybreak, the sun, a glowing red ball, could barely be seen through the thick haze that blanketed the city. The flames had consumed an area of many square blocks and roared onward out of control, devouring everything in its path. With a shortage of fire apparatus, it was impossible to halt the advance by the use of water alone.

It was decided to demolish a one-quarter mile strip which lay in the path and circumscribed the fire. To do this, a cordon of military moved into the area with orders to clear out the inhabitants using force if necessary. Stupified by shock, the natives streamed through the streets with their meager possessions on their backs. As they left, the sappers and demolition experts moved in with explosives to stop what explosives had started.

That night, as the sun slipped behind Malabar hill, the city became a Dante’s inferno. Again and again, hour after hour, explosions and the crashing sound of buildings shattered the night. By the following night, the devil’s work was done and the strip had been reduced to rubble.

The battle raged on for three days and nights under a pall of thick black smoke. Gradually, however, the raging flames consumed themselves amidst the burning rubble, and the fire was finally confined. Bombay was saved. The last of the embers burned out on May 1st more than two weeks after that one fateful bale of cotton had commenced to smoke.

The exact cost of the disaster will never be known, but it has been estimated at more than a billion dollars. In terms of human lives, the figure is even more difficult to estimate. Anyone who has seen the teeming masses of Bombay can appreciate the task of tabulation. The official figures listed only those who passed through the hospitals and aid stations. It was estimated that there were 1,500 dead and missing and 3,000 injured. How many natives simply disappeared will never be known.

Since the war ended in victory a year later, it is difficult to gauge the effect of the loss of the shipping tonnage and the port facilities. It is known that the resources of Calcutta, the only port which remained to supply the war machine in Burma, were taxed to the limit.

***

Now, here’s a story I highly recommend about the same explosion that was written by the son of a gunner on a British ammunition ship, the SS Fort Stikine, a vessel that caused a massive explosion on April 14, 1944, in the docks of Bombay: Anatomy of a disaster: the Bombay Docks Explosion – The National Archives blog <- click here

And take a look at this one, another traumatizing story about the same incident: My mother’s story: The day Bombay burned <- click here

Let’s not skip this article written by Anu Kumar on April 14, 2015, in the magazine, Magazine – After the news | Scroll.in) <- click here, about a “series of grave omissions in 1944 that led to the tragedy that is now called Bombay Dock Explosion.”