Dorothy E. Dodd is believed to have been born in Devonshire, England, towards the end of the nineteenth century.
She was a trained nurse, and around 1912, she had immigrated to Canada and settled in Edmonton, Alberta, where she found employment at The Royal Alexandra Hospital.
In the spring of 1915, she decided to return to England to offer her professional services as a Red Cross nurse and as a consequence, she booked second cabin passage on what was to be the Lusitania's final voyage and at the end of April 1915, she left Edmonton by rail for New York, to join the liner there, in time for her sailing just after mid-day on 1st May 1915.
When the vessel was torpedoed and sunk, just six days out of New York, and only twelve miles from the southern Irish coast Dorothy Dodd found herself struggling in the sea. Clinging on to wreckage for some two hours, she was eventually rescued and landed at Queenstown, where she was able to send a telegram announcing her survival to her relatives in Exeter. At the time they received it, they were not even aware that she had embarked on the vessel in the first place!
From Queenstown, she eventually made it back to Exeter, to the home of her brother, Mr. William Dodd, at 62. Paris Street. Shortly after arriving there, she gave an interview to a correspondent from the Western Times, which appeared in the 10th May edition. She described her ordeal, thus: -
… “Well, I do not know what other people’s impressions were; but for my own part, almost up to the last it seemed impossible to think that such a superb vessel could sink – or, at any rate, sink quickly. Her great size gave one a sense of security, and that, perhaps, was why I remained so cool. I continued to walk up and down, assisting people. I did not take my chance, in fact, till almost the edge of the boat touched the water. Then I plunged off. I can swim a little, so I was able to get off all right. People even then were calm. To the very last, indeed, there was
NO PANIC
“When I came up the chairs and the things from the deck kept hitting me. I felt myself being knocked about by them. I could not get out of their way. I came up for what I thought was the third time. I stretched my arms above the water and I thought to myself ‘I am done. I am going under’. But I was able to keep up, and I struck out for a sort of raft, and held on to it. Then I saw a man coming towards me. He seemed to me making straight for me, and I cried out, ‘We’re all right! Take hold of the other side.’ He did so, but the raft kept turning over, and each time we went under the water with it. Presently I saw a boat coming along upside down. I told him so. It drifted to us, and he and I got hold of it, and clambered on it.
“We stuck to it till seven or eight people altogether managed to drift the same way and climb up. We floated about on this upturned boat till another boat came along and took us off. We numbered about thirty all told on this boat, and she had begun to fill with water. I had been immersed a long time and was numbed. Some one let me help pull an oar to keep myself warm, but presently another woman was pulled aboard.
“They thought she was dead at first, and I took charge of her. I tried turning her over and working her arms as I knew was done in artificial respiration. She came to. We picked up others. One, at least, of these was dead. I went over and felt her. I knew by the touch she was beyond aid, especially in view of her discoloured face. We picked up so many that our boat was in danger, and one of those in charge cried out, ‘Are you going to sacrifice the lot?’ So they stopped picking people up.”
“Dead bodies were floating by?” we asked.
“Oh yes. It was a sight one would wish to forget. The cries of people in the water seemed like a dull moaning sound coming across the water from all sides. That was terrible.
“Presently a pilot boat came along and took us off. On board this I was able to lend a hand, and my experience of nursing I was only too glad to put into use. Blankets and so forth were got, and we did the best we could for those who were in a bad way. At Queenstown we were taken to the European Hotel, and I cannot speak too highly of all they did for us there. Everybody gave up their beds for us at once.” …
It is not known if Dorothy Dodd ever served as a Red Cross nurse, and nothing is known about her later life.
Cunard Records, Edmonton Journal, Exeter Flying Post, Western Morning News, Western Mail, PRO BT 100/345, Graham Maddocks, Geoff Whitfield, Michael Poirier, Jim Kalafus, Cliff Barry, Paul Latimer, Norman Gray.
Copyright © Peter Kelly.