Chief Petty Officer Max Leopold Bernays CGM, LSGCM, CD, RCNR

By: Sean E. Livingston, CNTP Co-Founder and Author

Chief Petty Officer Max Leopold Bernays was destined for a life in the navy. He was born on January 3, 1910, in Vancouver, British Columbia, the son of Acting-Commander Leopold Arthur Bernays. His father served with with distinction in the Royal Navy (RN) and was awarded both the Companion of the Most Distinguished Order of St. Michael and St. George and a Distinguished Service Order. He commanded HMS Vala during the First World War but died when UB-54 sunk his ship in the Bay of Biscay. Although Bernays never really knew his father (he was called back to the RN when he was around three years old) he grew up hearing stories of his service and became keenly interested in all things nautical. When not in school or helping with various chores at home, Bernays would spend his free time watching ships passing along the Strait of Georgia, dreaming of a life at sea. He wanted to follow in his late father’s footsteps. As the years passed, Bernays grew into a confident, mild-mannered, and quiet young man. He shunned the spotlight, and his friends respected his level-headedness and loyalty. Although it wasn’t Bernays’ style to rush into a fight, he would never back down from one, especially if his mates were in trouble.

Before the age of twenty, Bernays decided it was time to pursue his passion and joined the Merchant Marines. He spent most of the following year at sea, learning the ins and outs of shipboard life. His time aboard merchant vessels confirmed what he already knew in his heart – he was born to be a sailor, but his goal was still to serve in uniform. He accepted a position with the Canadian National Steamships and, after a year, joined the Royal Canadian Naval Reserve (RCNR) at Esquimalt in 1930. At last, he was in the navy and over the next twenty-four years would serve in HMC ships.

Bernays ventured to the east coast and, after completing his initial training, found himself on a warship heading first to Europe and then to the West Indies. He spent a good portion of the next ten years at sea with the Royal Canadian Navy (RCN), returning periodically to HMCS Stadacona for additional training. When the Second World War began, Bernays, now a seasoned hand, was put on active service.

It was August, 1942. HMCS Assiniboine was escorting convoy SC94, destined to rendezvous with RN ships from Western Approaches. The passing had already been perilous – they’d been repeatedly attacked by U-boats and had already lost a third of the convoy. On the 5^th, Assiniboine began assisting injured merchant ships trailing at the rear when another vessel was torpedoed. Stubbs didn’t hesitate, going on the offensive and sweeping the area in search of the U-boat, but couldn’t find it. Heavy fogs appeared the next morning and the enemy took advantage of the daylight cover to resume the hunt.

At 1125hrs, lookouts aboard Assiniboine spotted the conning tower of U210. Stubbs moved his ship to intercept the U-boat, maneuvering in and out of fog and trading fire with the enemy. Below the bridge, Bernays steered the destroyer, reacting in lock-step with his captain’s commands, which came down from the bridge through a brass voice pipe. His eyes squinted – on a good day the small portholes to his left and right provided little visibility, but in these conditions, he couldn’t see much besides fog and gun smoke. He had forgone his tunic and rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up past the elbows so that he could better respond to helm commands, which came in fast and frequent. He still wore his hat, which rested characteristically high and slouched on his right ear so that the visor stayed out of his eyeline. Stubbs was pushing the ship through what felt like an on-water obstacle course, trying to position Assiniboine to ram the enemy. But the U-boat was cunning, staying close to the destroyer to prevent the maneuver.

Bernays felt sweat forming on his forehead, back, and palms. The sound of gunfire made hearing difficult, and the regular vibrations of the ship’s engines were accompanied by the shaking from Assiniboine‘s guns and incoming 88mm fire. This was why he had taken the helm – there could be no hesitation in responding to the captain’s commands.

Bernays stole a glance through the starboard porthole. There was a monetary break in the smoke and he noticed what looked like a dark, sleek object beside the destroyer. Unbeknownst to him, Assiniboine was parallel to U210, but Stubbs quickly issued orders to position his ship to ram the enemy. Bernays smoothly steered the destroyer, the two vessels now trading high explosive shells at near point-blank range. Just then, the U-boat scored a hit near the bridge, a few smaller rounds ripping through the wheel house. The force of the blasts nearly knocked Bernays from the helm but he managed to hold onto the wheel, keeping both himself and Assiniboine steady. His ears were ringing and he shook his head to clear his senses.

“Anybody hurt?” he shouted over his shoulder.

Two junior ratings, who’d been working the telegraph when the shell hit, replied. Although slightly rattled from the blast, they were both otherwise alright. Bernays felt a moments relief before one of the sailors asked, “Is that smoke?”

He sniffed the air a few times and also noticed the smell. As if on queue, a report from another pipe announced that the bridge and parts of the forecastle were on fire. Smoke began to obscure the little Bernays could see outside the portholes and soon flames began to creep up to the wheel house itself. He realized they were minutes away from being trapped. There were only two choices: abandon his post and save his life or stay, continue to maneuver the ship, and risk being burned alive or suffocating from the smoke. He made his decision.

“Get clear, you two!” he barked, ordering the ratings to leave.

“What about you, Chief?” one asked.

“I’ll be fine,” he insisted, “now get going!”

It was a lie, but Bernays needed them gone – he couldn’t afford to focus on anything else besides controlling the ship. Whatever damaged the bridge had taken, thankfully Stubbs appeared alright as his voice still rang down with course changes and alterations in speed. Bernays now had one hand on the wheel and the other on the telegraph. The flames outside grew higher, as well as the temperature.