Beginning Friday at the Martha’s Vineyard Film Center there will be a week of special screenings of The Finest Hours, a new movie about the Coast Guard rescue off Cape Cod during a blizzard in 1952. With the snowstorm raging outside at the time of this writing, it seemed like a good moment to remember the “greatest small boat rescue in Coast Guard history” as it became known.

As luck would have it, while going through piles of old magazines I came across several copies of Ships and Seas, a magazine which came out quarterly back in the 1950s. On the top of the pile was the Spring 1956 issue with a bright red cover and a photo of the bow of the SS Pendleton wallowing in waves with only about the first quarter showing above the water. The article was written by Edward F. Oliver, and the tag across the top read “Rescue Off Cape Cod.”

On Feb. 18, 1952 a wicked blizzard was raging off the New England coast. Two T-2 tankers, the SS Pendleton and the SS Fort Mercer, were underway off the eastern side of Cape Cod when they were caught in weather. Both tankers were fully laden with kerosene and home heating oil, and both had been caught in a nor’easter which by the third day had reached hurricane strength. Meanwhile, several Coast Guard cutters were further offshore searching for the New Bedford fishing schooner Paolina and were maintaining station in the hopes of finding her once the storm abated (she was never found). Hove to offshore were the Coast Guard cutters Eastwind and Unimak, and in nearby locations three more cutters — Acushent, McCullough and Yakutat were on station and would soon take part in the unfolding drama along with two 36-foot motor lifeboats.

The Mercer was steaming north about 23 miles SE of Cape Cod when she started leaking as forces imposed by the storm overwhelmed her. About 30 miles to the north of the Mercer, the Pendleton was making equally heavy weather on her course.

Mr. Oliver wrote: “At 0558 the Pendleton, battered beyond endurance by the unrelenting fury of the storm, suddenly and without warning broke in two. So rapidly did this occur, the radio transmitter was put out of commission before an SOS could be sent. While the eight men on the bow section and the 33 on the stern of the Pendleton were suddenly faced with a watery grave, the other participants in the sea drama were as yet unaware of their predicament.”

The Coast Guard received a radio message from the Mercer stating that the seams had opened, their position was 063 degrees 27 miles from the Pollock Rip Light Vessel and they needed assistance. The two offshore cutters raced towards the Mercer from seaward, and the Yakutat and Acushnet from Provincetown and Portland were on their way.

Meanwhile, the Pendleton had also split in two with nine men on the bow section and 34 on the stern — but no one knew it was in trouble or even where it was because of the damaged radio. In early afternoon, however, a Coast Guard plane from Salem managed to get airborne and spotted the bow and stern of the Mercer, about 38 miles east of Chatham Light.

Mr. Oliver wrote: “At the same moment, the Chatham Lifeboat Station reported to Boston that two unidentified objects had just been sighted on the radarscope, about five miles off the beach. The Rescue Coordination Center, still only aware of the one broken tanker, questioned the pilot’s information and much to his chagrin instructed him to double-check the position. Having proceeded toward the coast after his sighting message, he commenced a turn to retrace his course when suddenly he couldn’t believe his eyes. There wallowing in the sea was the bow section of a tanker, yet he had just seen the bow and stern section 35 miles away. Swooping low for a closer look, he saw on the bow the name Pendleton. The incredible truth was now known: by one of the most unusual coincidences in maritime history, two tankers [essentially sisters] — within a six-hour period and only a few miles apart — had broken in two. One of the most remarkable rescue operations in the history of the U. S. Coast Guard was about to begin.”

With winds of 70 knots from the NE and 50 to 60-foot seas, the situation was perilous. Eventually the stern section of the Pendleton drifted close enough to shore to be sighted from the beach.

The Coast Guard’s motto is Semper Peratus (be ready), and as the nature of the incident and some of the details became apparent, four crew members responded in the 36-foot wooden lifeboat USCG 36500. There is a Coast Guard saying: “They have to go out; they do not have to come back.” That motto must have been squarely on the minds of the four crew who were mustered.

Setting out in the high winds (hurricane force), with seas running 50 to 60 feet in a small boat was difficult enough but they had to negotiate out through the notoriously tricky Chatham channel and over the bar. With only minimal navigational equipment (and a cranky 90 horsepower gasoline engine) the boat was thrown around by the rough seas. One particularly bad wave threw them on their side and demolished the windshield and the compass. They kept going.

Eventually the men did find the stern section of the Pendleton and over several hours, and with a great deal of very careful maneuvering, they managed to save 32 men trapped on board. The cook, who had helped the crew off the stern and was the last to leave, jumped prematurely and was lost in the maelstrom seas. The captain and seven crew members on the bow section were lost.

Although the lifeboat crew had no compass and the conditions were unimaginably horrible, the coxswain of the life boat opted to take the men in rather than attempt to transfer them to another Coast Guard boat outside the bar. The trip in would have been a difficult task in good conditions as they had no compass (or GPS), the engine needed constant attention, and the boat was way overloaded and sluggish. Add a raging storm, dark of night and high waves and it was near impossible. But the crew successfully navigated their way ashore and 32 men out of the crew of 41 were saved from certain death.

Meanwhile, the other Coast Guard vessels were rescuing most of the crew of the Mercer. The eventual tally was 70 rescued out of 84 men.

The four crew members of the lifeboat and one other were awarded Gold Lifesaving Medals for “extreme and heroic daring.” Four were awarded Silver Lifesaving Medals for “heroic action” and 18 were cited for “courage, initiative and unswerving devotion to duty.”

The four crew of the lifeboat were BM1 Bernard Webber as Coxswain, EN3 Andrew Fitzgerald, SN Richard Livesey and SN Irving Maske.

Looking out today at the snow and the storm, and thinking about those men in the dark and the frigid seas in 1950s gear, one cannot even begin to imagine the courage of the Coast Guardsmen who participated in the rescue. Truly, their finest hours.