'I survived German torpedo attack...'.

Byline: By Cathy Owen South Wales Echo 

Looking out from the living room of her home at the magnificent and tranquil view over the Cynon Valley where Helen Charles grew up, it is hard to imagine the dramatic start to her life.

And as she recounts the details of how, as a five-month-old baby she survived torpedoes, sharks and five days and six nights on the open South Atlantic sea without food and water, you can only listen in amazement.

Of course, Helen cannot remember the events but her parents, Douglas and Violet Logan, retold their story many times and the 65-year-old has kept letters, newspaper clippings and surfed the internet to find out more.

It all started in 1939, when Helen's father was a 22-year-old RAF officer stationed on the island of Malta. There, he met and married islander Violet Whelpdale. During World War II, Malta was under constant bombardment with around 13 air raids a day - one of the most bombed places on earth.

Helen was born in an air raid shelter during a particularly bad bombing raid, at 3am on April 9, 1942.

"That same day a bomb was dropped through the dome of the Mosta church on the island, during a service. The bomb didn't go off and you can still see it in the church today. But my mum always used to say there were two miracles that day. I was born and the bomb didn't go off," recalls Helen.

When Helen was three months old her father got the news that his four and a half years on the island were coming to an end and he was being sent back to Britain. But little did they know what lay ahead for them on the journey home.

After stops in Cairo and Durban, the family set off from South Africa aboard a troop ship called the Laconia. Also aboard were 1,800 Italian Prisoners of War, 103 Polish guards, 80 civilians, including the Logans, and 136 crew.

"The boat was a former cruise ship but my dad described it as a tub and there was a lot of concern that the thick black smoke coming out of the funnel would attract the enemy," said Helen.

And it seemed they were right to be concerned. On the night of September 12, 1942, 65 years ago tomorrow, as Helen's father was having a cup of tea and her mum was ironing a dress in preparation for an on-board dance, the ship was struck by two torpedoes.

"It was just after 8pm, 8.07pm to be precise, when the first torpedo hit followed by another 30 seconds later. My mam thought the iron had burst but dad realised what had happened. They grabbed me and a bag of nappies and just ran. My dad turned to mum and said 'Come on Vi. We've had it.'

"The water was already coming in because the ship had tilted. They had practised getting to the lifeboats and ours was number 7 but when my parents got there it was in shreds."

There was sheer panic on board but the family managed to make it on to a lifeboat. There were 90 people on the boat that had been built to hold 50 so they had difficulty lowering it into the water.

"How we didn't fall out of that boat I don't know. I was just meant to survive for some reason," said Helen, who recently retired after 30 years as school secretary at Cwmbach Nursery School.

"The boat got stuck to the side of the sinking ship but there was an axe on the lifeboat and one of the men hacked at the ropes to free us."

After rowing away from the Laconia as it sank, the lifeboat "bobbed" about on the Atlantic for the rest of the night.

"My father described it as being like a macabre Christmas scene with all the red battery-operated lights on the life jackets in the water. He was trying to reassure my mother that the boys would be along to rescue us soon. But screams penetrated the night air and the cries rang out because sharks had been attracted to the area because of the noise."

As day broke, the survivors realised that there were Italian PoWs hanging on to the side of the lifeboat. For two and a half days many of them remained on the side, banned from the lifeboat, but that didn't stop them from washing tiny Helen's nappies in the water.

After four days adrift, water was rationed to a small wineglass for each person, a spoonful of dried meat a day and three Horlicks tablets. Luckily, Helen was still being breastfed by her mother or she would never have survived.

It is hard to comprehend but rescue came in the shape of the man who torpedoed them in the first place.

Lieutenant Commander Werner Hartenstein, realising there were Italian PoWs on board, decided to launch a rescue of the survivors. The Germans sent three submarines to help, the Italians sent another and the French sent three warships.

Five days after the Laconia sank, a U-boat came to the rescue of Helen and her parents.

The women and children were taken on board and allowed to sleep in the bunks while the men stayed in the lifeboat as it was towed to safety.

A Vichy French cruiser picked up the family and the other survivors and they were taken to a prisoner of war camp in Northern Africa for two months before being allowed to go home - but separately.

"My father always told mum that if they got separated and she got back to the UK she should make her way to Ynysybwl and his family would look after her. So after arriving in Liverpool, the WRVS helped mum out and got her on a train to South Wales. She always used to describe how when she got off the train at Cardiff it seemed that everyone just disappeared and then there were these three men at the end of the platform. They came up to her and said 'You must be Violet'. It was my grandfather and his two brothers. And that is how we arrived at Robert's Street in Ynysybwl. All we had with us was some nappies and a cardboard box with two skirts that the WRVS had given mum."

Since then life has been less adventurous for Helen who grew up in Ynysybwl with her brother Greg and sister Gillian.

Helen married Roy Charles, a retired firefighter, in August 1963.

They have two sons, John and Jeffrey, and three grandchildren Lewis, Daniel and Caitlin-Mae, who is the same age now as Helen was on the Laconia.

"When I think how slim our chances of survival were, I realise how fortunate we were to have been spared. I am the youngest survivor of this disaster.

"Mam and dad were married for 44 years and Roy and I have been married for 42," she said.

"All the good things in life we have experienced would have been lost, if our lives had ended 65 years ago, as so many others did." More than 2,000 perished: Of the 3,200 people on the Laconia, fewer than 1,000 survived.

But many of the survivors feel they owe their lives to the German U-boat commander Werner Hartenstein.

Helen has become a member of the International Submarine Connection Plauen, a memorial society that honours Hartenstein and his crew.

She says the purpose of the society is to improve relations between countries that were former enemies.

Helen has visited Plauen, Hartenstein's birthplace, twice and is described as the "baby" by its German members.

"But for him, my parents and I would no doubt have perished and this story would never have been written," says Helen.