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Although, when war began in 1939, I was 16 years old, my war really started in May 1940, when the nation called (on the 10th May) for volunteers for the Local Defence Volunteers (later changed to the Home Guard). I was part of a platoon in Alton, North Hampshire. About the same time I volunteered for the Royal Navy and was offered entry to the Fleet Air Arm for training as an air mechanic (ordnance). Surprisingly I could not join for ‘hostilities only’, but was required to join on a ‘Seven and Five’ engagement i.e. 7 years service followed by 5 years on the reserve, which I did.

The L.D.V platoon I was in was almost a replica of Dad’s Army — the Commanding Officer was a Bank Cashier and we even had a gamekeeper amongst us. Because of my age I was very much like Pike! Initially, apart from the gamekeeper, who had his shotgun, we did not have any firearms, so it was a proud moment when we received our rifles — made in Canada — with 5 rounds of ammunition. Part of our training involved some of the platoon pulling an old car on the end of some ropes down a disused railway cutting. We would practise throwing Molotov cocktails at it!

In November 1940, four days after my eighteenth birthday, I was called up to the Navy. My basic training was in a holiday camp in Skegness, named H.M.S. Royal Arthur. I can even remember the number of the chalet I was in — J 39!

After my basic training at H.M.S. Royal Arthur, I was sent to an R.A.F station at Pyle in Glamorganshire in South Wales for technical training. This was in armaments — aircraft guns, bombs and torpedoes. It was a large R.A.F station and we were a small Fleet Air Arm contingent but probably gave more trouble to the Station Warrant Officer than all his RAF colleagues.

Next, I was moved to another camp establishment at Puckpool, outside Ryde. May 1941 I well remember — Portsmouth was under heavy aerial bombardment, so when we were not on duty, we slept in underground shelters. We had to take turns being seawall sentries, and often witnessed the ‘fireworks display’ on the other side of the Solent as Portsmouth was being raided.

I had several other postings before joining my first ship which was the aircraft carrier H.M.S. Eagle. At the time Eagle was taking part in South Atlantic Patrols, operating out of Freetown. I and several others also posted to Eagle were given passage on a cruiser, the Dorsetshire. We messed in the torpedo-mens’ mess. Dorsetshire was the ship that gave the coup de gras to the Bismarck, so we learnt the story first hand from the torpedo men themselves.

Later in 1941, when in the Atlantic, there was an incident when an aircraft (Swordfish) which had been on anti-submarine patrol landed, still carrying in its’ light bomb racks aluminium sea markers which are dropped for use at navigational points. These should have been removed before the aircraft was ‘struck down’ to the hangar below. On this occasion it wasn’t done and unfortunately when a fellow armourer was taking the sea markers off in the hangar, he dropped one which exploded, setting fire to the aircraft. He sustained injuries from which he subsequently died. The fire set off a sprinkler system using seawater which unfortunately rendered all of the remaining aircraft in the Hangar unserviceable.

It was generally thought that Eagle would be sent to Durban in South Africa, where she had previously been, to re-equip with new aircraft, but instead Eagle, which was an old ship originally laid down in World War 1, was sent back to the UK and was dry-docked in Gladstone Dock, Liverpool for a general overhaul. The Fleet Air Arm Personnel, as distinct from the ships company, were disembarked to the Royal Naval Air Station at Machrihanish on the Mull of Kintyre.

After the completion of Eagle’s refit, she returned to the Mediterranean and throughout 1942 took part in several convoys attempting to relieve Malta, including Operation ‘Harpoon’ in June, and made no less than nine trips, including two in company with the United Sates Carrier ‘ Wasp’, carrying Spitfires for that brave island. The Spitfires were loaded on at Gibraltar, often partly assembled and prepared for flying off whilst we sailed eastwards to the flying off point. My humble role as an Air Mechanic (Ordnance) or Armourer as we were more usually called, was to harmonise the guns mounted on the aircraft.

Eagle’s last voyage was in Operation ‘Pedestal’ in August 1942. This was in effect a last do or die effort to supply Malta so that it could continue to be used as a base to harry the Italians and the Germans. Failure would have forced the surrender of Malta. A very large naval force totalling about 28 ships, including 4 aircraft carriers and 2 battleships were the escort for 14 merchant ships. On the 11th August, not far from the convoy — it must have been the second day- Eagle was torpedoed shortly after 1 pm. We had shortly stood down from action stations from a threatened air attack, which at least our side of the convoy had not developed, and I and a shipmate (Alistair Rintoul) had not gone down below, we had remained at our action station on the starboard side of the ‘Island’ (the superstructure on the starboard side of the flight deck). At about 1.15pm, 4 torpedoes struck H.M.S. Eagle’s port side. She immediately listed to port, and although we did not hear any instruction to abandon ship, it became very apparent that she was sinking, so my shipmate and I blew up our lifebelts, tied a rope to a stanchion, went down it as far as the anti-torpedo blister (a second hull designed to absorb torpedoes), now about 15 feet out of the water, and jumped into the sea. We swam to get away from the possible suction, and saw Eagle’s last moments no more than 7 or 8 minutes after she was struck. So passed a gallant old ship which had seen so much action — the only carrier available to Admiral Cunningham in the Mediterranean theatre for a long period in 1941 — but which did not get the recognition accorded to her more glamorous modern sisters. The total number of casualties was 131.

The escort vessels were making every effort to locate the U-boat (U73) responsible for Eagle’s sinking, and I well remember feeling the shock through the water of exploding depth charges dropped by the Charybdis, the Eagle’s close escort cruiser. One has to acknowledge the skill and bravery of the U-boat crew against such a formidable escort force. She was not caught on this occasion but was, I believe, sunk later in the war. After a couple of hours, together with the other survivors, I was picked up by a sea going tug within the convoy, named Jaunty. I well remember winding myself as I was hauled over the gunnels. Another shipmate died of a heart attack shortly after being rescued by the Jaunty.

Later that day, I and other survivors were transferred to a destroyer, The Malcolm, to take us back to Gibraltar. I recall that about an hour after we transferred, a plane — possibly a Hudson - flew over and indicated that it had attacked a U-boat, and thought that it had been damaged. Half a dozen or so of us were given rifles to act as prison guards to any survivors of the U-boat which might be found, but no wreck or survivors were in fact found.

Upon arrival in Gibraltar, we were transferred with survivors of other lost ships to the aircraft carrier Argus, which had been one of the carriers taking part in ‘Pedestal’. For this purpose, the Argus Hangar was cleared of aircraft and used for bedding down the survivors on the return journey to the U.K. It was not without apprehension that we heard the sound of depth charges dropped by escorting destroyers during this time!

Subsequently I was drafted to Fleet Air Squadron 824 and joined a new aircraft carrier H.M.S. unicorn, launched from Harland and Wolf’s shipyard in Belfast in March 1943. In October of that year, still with 824 Squadron, I joined the escort carrier H.M.S Striker and remained with her until March 1944, when curiously I was drafted to a training squadron (no.768) aboard the above, referred to H.M.S Argus, which was then operating as a training ship for Fleet Air Arm aircrew in the Clyde area.

In September 1944, I was again drafted, this time to 807 Squadron, aboard H.M.S Hunter, an escort carrier in the Mediterranean, 807 being equipped with Seafire aircraft — the nautical adaptation of the Spitfire. On this occasion, to join the Squadron in Egypt, I and another colleague were given passage as far as Malta on an Italian cruiser, called the Sciopione Africano, which, since the Italian capitulation was operating under the white ensign. After some 3 weeks in barracks there, we completed our journey to Alexandria on a seagoing tug, which I think was called ‘The Prodigal’, entirely unescorted, but we consoled ourselves with the thought that if there were any U-boats in the Med at that time, they were unlikely to waste a torpedo on us!

I recall that once during H.M.S. Hunter’s period in the Med, that the ship was visited by King Farouk of Egypt to watch flying exercises and that the crew were rewarded with oranges from the royal plantations.

Hunter then moved to the Far East and became part of a force working up for a military landing in Malaya. On V.E. day (May 8th 1945) we were off the Andaman and Nicobar Islands in the Indian Ocean, as it was thought that the Japanese might take the opportunity to evacuate these islands which they had earlier occupied. I remember on this day that a large number of the crew (but not of course the duty watch!) performed a conga throughout the ship!!! On V.J Day (August 15th 1945) we were in Colombo harbour. Subsequently in August, Hunter was part of a naval force in Singapore when Admiral Louis Mountbatten accepted the surrender of Malaya from the Japanese.

Upon return to the U.K in October 1945, the Squadron disembarked to a Fleet Air Arm base near Belfast, and shortly afterwards I went on a higher ratings course at the gunnery school, Portsmouth. However, about this time it was apparently realised that the Navy, including the Fleet Air Arm, was likely to be over manned. In consequence, an Admiralty Fleet Order was promulgated, permitting ‘7 and 5’ ratings to remuster as ‘hostilities only’, making me eligible for immediate release which took effect from 31st May 1946.

Whilst perhaps I lost several formative years of my life, I look back on my service in the Navy with pride, and value the sense of comradeship and discipline it instilled in me during those momentous years. In September 2005, I hope to visit an all-service reunion in Malta and meet some of my old shipmates.

Finally, I hope that I have recorded the forgoing events in correct chronological order, but if not, plead failing memory of old age.

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