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As we swam along on scuba at 40 feet, looking down on her vastness, it was apparent from the noises that the "Caribia" still ached from her most recent ordeal. Lying on her port side, she groaned and creaked with the ebbing tide,  the whimpering of a wounded creature. It was August, 1974. Apra Harbor, Guam. 

We were exploring the newly sunk 715' "Caribia" passenger liner. She'd been down a few weeks. Government agencies were scrambling topside to settle the confusion stemming from her unexpected sinking. But down here, intent on adventure, it slowly dawned on us we were witness to a lovely metal creature sighing her last breaths through gaping wounds. 

Her bow section was missing, ripped off by the force of the water beating her against the rocks before she sank, and ragged edges reached out in every direction. Twisted pieces of piping and torn insulation swayed in the surge. The bridgewas gone, as was the 46-foot stack, one of the largest ever built for a passenger liner. The 120-foot mast had snapped off and still not been located. 

Fish had already made her their new home, and the peach-fuzz algae covered her gleaming white flanks. In the distance were the gaping dark caverns of formerly elegant staterooms, dining rooms and lounges. Further along her side her still intact portholes blinked in the sunlight filtering from the water's surface. The teak, oak and pine decking, still in good condition, led to a staircase twisted almost flat and leading nowhere. At the stern, the 22-ton props were still. The clock near the pool had no hands and showed no time. There was no more time for the "Caribia". 

She had come to a tragic end, the victim of a tropical storm that had beaten her against the ragged edges of Guam's Glass Breakwater at Apra Harbor on August 12th, 1974. 

It had begun years before, with the coming of the jet age. While the original "Caronia" had ushered in a post-war year of leisure cruising, her distinction and reputation could not hide the fact that, in spite of a 1965 refit, the "Caronia" was losing money. She was sold in 1967, her famous distinctive green color (she had been known as The "Green Goddess") changed to white and her name to "Caribia." 

But the hasty refitting caused two subsequent disastrous cruises for the new owners, including a crew death from an exploding steam line and a fire (causing the ship full of passengers to drift for 20 hours). All subsequent cruises were cancelled while legal claims mounted, including the final insult of 'parking tickets' at New York's docks. In 1974 she was sold to a Taiwanese company for scrap. It was on her journey to Taiwan that she had her rendezvous with Tropical Storm Mary and the rocky shores of Guam. 

Her departure from New York was quiet and unobtrusive, unlike her first departure from New York in 1948 amid ribbons, confetti, lively bands and noisy crowds of well-wishers. The German tugboat "Hamburg" led her by a 3,600-foot steel cable, her massive boilers and powerful generators no longer able to control her. It would have been smooth towing, except along the way one of the "Hamburg's" engines broke down, requiring repairs in Honolulu. Later, close to Guam, a turbo-blower broke down and the starboard engine began operating at greatly reduced power. They would stop on Guam for repairs. 

Then they sailed right into a developing tropical depression. 

Close to Guam, "Hamburg's" captain radioed they were in trouble. They were now in the height of Tropical Storm Mary, being buffeted by 20 knot winds gusting to 45. And "Hamburg" still had "Caribia" in tow. Navy and Coast Guard  tugs were unable to assist the stricken tug due to the large swells at the mouth of the harbor blocking their exit. 

On her own and seeing the impending disaster of them both going aground, in one last desperate attempt, "Hamburg" shifted behind the "Caribia" in an effort to wrest the ship away from the winds and current dragging her toward the reef. But the tug engine's reduced capacity, and the strong winds, combined to defeat all attempts and soon the tug was being  pulled by the liner. 

The captain and crew fought to the last possible moment, but finally just 800 yards off the tip of the breakwater at 8:48 a.m., the captain ordered "Caribia's" tow line cut. The tug immediately swung to sea to avoid going aground on Orote Point, the "Caribia" left adrift heading for the breakwater. The three men aboard were lifted to safety by Air Sea Rescue  helicopter and by 9:15 a.m. the "Caribia's" drift ended abruptly as she crashed against the Glass Breakwater, her bow against the rocks, her stern blocking one-third of the harbor entrance. 

The breakwater shuttered as each subsequent wave crashed against, then washed over the "Caribia". She rolled in place, the noise of water and scraping metal deafening. By early afternoon, 570 feet of "Caribia" slid beneath the water into the harbor, leaving a 150 foot section of bow remaining on the breakwater. 

The immediate concern was whether she blocked the harbor entrance or not, information vital to the supply necessities and strategic mission of the island. Due to high swells for four days, all efforts by Navy and Coast Guard to locate the sunken ship were hampered and all traffic in and out of the harbor suspended. When weather finally permitted side-scanning equipment to be used, her hull was located lying at 30 to 140 feet at a 45 degree list to port. The harbor entrance could be reopened. 

The Army Corps of Engineers took control of the situation, being the federal agency controlling navigable rivers and waterways of the United States. Law mandates they are to remove an obstruction if the owners do not. And the owners of "Caribia" said they had no intention of doing so. ACOE began plans to let bids for the salvage work, and closed the site to everyone. "Hamburg" was finally allowed to leave a few months later once the owners posted bond of over $3 million, the U.S. Government suing for more than $4 million for the costs of salvage and damages. 

Over the next months, ACOE managed the seeping oil which would be a problem throughout the salvage operation. In addition, a previously unknown landing craft was found within yards of where the "Caribia" had sunk. The Navy ordinance team removed the 50 tons of ordinance, the biggest job ever undertaken by the Explosive Ordinance Division  here. It took almost five months with daily multiple dives, totaling 952 dives and 388 hours spent underwater. (The origin of the LSU was never established, however it is believed to have sunk in the 1950s. Ammunition was dated 1954.) 

Meanwhile, sports divers were everywhere in the "Caribia's" waters, in spite of the 'off-limits' signs. Enforcement was rare, and seasoned Guam wreck divers familiar with Guam's W.W.II wrecks weren't going to let this change pass them by. It had been no idle interest which had drawn the divers to the breakwater during the hours of "Caribia's" demise...portholes had caught their eye...along with whatever else they could imagine would be for the taking once the ship sank. Even today, 23 years later, there are large brass portholes, among other wreck collectibles, gracing divers' homes around Guam. 

Eventually the Nippon Salvage Company from Japan contracted to do the salvage of the ship, electing to cut it into 400 ton sections and recover the scrap for sale. Their salvage operation lasted two years, from June 1975 to 1977. It was filmed in a 60-minute documentary commissioned by the ACOE, this being the first major salvage work they oversaw.
Past established routine had been to contract such work to the Navy Engineer Corps. (The filming was done by local creative divers from the largest dive shop/marine center in the Pacific then, Coral Reef Marine Center.) 

The "Caribia" was a grand lady who had laid down her life here. A grand dame had come to visit...uninvited, but welcome none-the-less. She had not lost her charm, and stole her way into many hearts, even underwater, just as she had done cruising the surface of the oceans for so many years before.