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I cannot remember what was said but they welcomed me and it seemed that they would summon me for a medical examination in the near future. My friend was not informed of my plans at the time. He could be told later. It was something I wished to do on my own for a change. Eventually the buff coloured envelope arrived informing me to report to Hither Green and the local hall where the medical examination would take place. That was when I told my friend. When I told the assistant cashier and the reason for volunteering he informed me that, he could take steps to get me deferred from entering the Services. My answer to him was that I wanted to go. The day for the medical came and along to Hither Green I went. The only recollection of the medical was the large hall partitioned into small rooms. In each room was a doctor a specialist in his own field I presume. Eyes nose, teeth, ears, throat, and everything that goes to make a fit and healthy male were all examined. We were then free to go home and await the findings of the doctors as to whether we were fit enough to enter the Royal Navy. My notification came through told me report back to Hither Green from where we were to be transported to Malvern, Worcestershire. It transpired that situated in Malvern was the land based training establishment H.M.S. Duke.
My 18th birthday was a few weeks off on the day when I entered the naval establishment. A lot has been left out of the years that have been skirted through mainly the war years. Our family pre-war had been so together and happy and here four years into it and it was still going on. The beginning of the end was not even yet in sight. Nobody to my knowledge has ever made an issue of the men, women and children that had to stand and experience all the terrible hardship that they had to endure. They could not complain, give up or even run away from it all. Perhaps they should be entitled to compensation from the government; at least a medal should have been struck for them. As was mentioned the years before entering the R.N. are a little mixed because of memory and the uncertainty of all that was going on. Going across the road to visit my sister her husband and newly adopted baby, it also meant that I saw more of Eileen and her family. The two eldest sisters Peggy and Eileen were members of the Women鈥檚 Junior Air Corps. It was an organisation that was new to me so I cannot say too much about it. The only time that I saw it was an assembled group of teenage young ladies outside St. Gill鈥檚 Church one Sunday forenoon it was Church Parade. The uniform consisted of grey skirt, blue shirt with black tie and perched on their heads was a grey forage cap. The two sisters had different personalities and frequently used to clash .The words became heated and being sisters were soon forgotten. Going back to the day of the return to Hither Green and the subsequent journey to Malvern it is all very vague. Nervous excitement, apprehension, call it what you like but the second part of the day is all I can remember. The march from the railway station to H.M.S. Duke made .me feel rather proud. The people of Malvern never seemed to welcome us with open arms. They must have seen too many sailors coming and going over the past few years and knowing sailors there must have many unpleasant incidents that had happened in the town. The gates closed behind us and we were now in the Royal Naval land establishment H.M.S. Duke. We were soon moving around collecting uniforms, bedding and everything we would want as sailors. When we did eventually finish that which was asked of us and had a chance to sit down it was time for an evening meal. We had tasted discipline and personally, I did not mind it. The meal that was given us corned beef, mashed potatoes and peas was very welcome. It had been a long day, I felt tired, lying on my bed my thoughts turned to my family and home, and I must confess I cried myself to sleep. Crying that first day away from home turned me from a civilian into a sailor and it never happened again while being in the navy. H.M.S. Duke was a new entry establishment The purpose of it being that you were disciplined, given a uniform, told how to put it on and how to wear it properly. Given a hammock. Told how to use that and also how to lash that when you had slept in it .It also made you into a very fit person with exercise, long runs and how to do everything at the double. Also you had to fire a rifle. That took place on the 6th July 1943. Put on paper officially as fired five rounds application .303 at 25, 100 & 200 yards. The new entry course at H.M.S. Duke lasted about four weeks. Leaving there and feeling fit and happy with the navy, so far our next camp where our stoker training was to begin was Stamshore Camp, Portsmouth. It was situated if my memory serves me correctly about two miles from Portsmouth Railway Station. The camp was built quite near the sea separated only by a fortified beach. I never knew much about marine engineering but listened to all that was told me. The written tests were accomplished to the best of my ability and the examining officer marked them as 鈥淪uperior鈥�. His remarks also read 鈥渞ecommended for early advancement鈥�. The history sheet of W.J.Stonebridge, Official Number P / K X 527296, Port Division Portsmouth, stated that I was issued with the Stokers manual on the 12/7/1943. Also that from 12/7/43 till 19/8/43 was the time that was spent at Stamshore Camp. I passed educationally for Leading Stokers Course. The short time spent at Stamshore, the immediate posting to the destroyer H.M.S. 鈥淪tevenstone鈥� went very quickly, and the events of the two months since going to Malvern are mixed and partly forgotten. Getting to know the naval town busy and full of naval uniforms of which I was now one made me feel proud. The Royal Naval Barracks and the small streets leading to the dockyards. The naval shops full of badges and uniforms and everything nautical. I could not wait to get a uniform made to measure by one of the shops tailors. The hostels that never seemed to shut always there to provide a drink and a chair to sit and rest. The wonderful Salvation Army, The Sailors Rest, names that instantly come to mind. Going through those Dockyard gates and knowing the history that surrounded you. Seeing the grey painted warships up close. The destroyers tied up to the jetty walls. Ships in dry-dock for repair or for painting. All the hustle and bustle of a working Dockyard with naval officers and ratings going about their duties. The dockyard workers in their boiler suits and caps all seemingly busy and going about there work. I was a part of all this now, Belonging to one of the grey painted destroyers with a letter followed by two numbers painted on her side. Belonging to one of the grey painted destroyers with a letter followed by two numbers painted on her side. Joining H.M.S. 鈥漇tevenstone鈥�, I did not know what to expect. Feeling a little nervous as stepping from the dockyard onto the gangplank belonging to the destroyer with hammock and kit bag. Being led towards the front of the ship past wireless room one side and on he other one marked Heads. One quickly learned that Heads was lavatories. Next room on past the Heads was a room containing washbasins and a shower. Still further on was a door of two parts; the top part, which was open, and I could see it was like a tiny shop. That was the canteen. The Navy Army Air Force Institute referred to as the N.A.A.F.I ran that. This tiny room was the modern day super-market on the destroyer. Owing to the lack of space on a destroyer, there was no space for big galleys. There was no space for communal eating the seaman鈥檚 mess was situated on past the NAAFI canteen. The Stoker鈥榮 mess was underneath the seaman鈥檚, which was reached by descending an iron ladder. That mess-deck was your home. You had your meals there, you slept there, and you wrote your letters there. There were lockers round the outside of the mess in which you stored your belongings and having cushions on top served as seats. In front of the lockers were four wooden tables, two each side of the mess-deck bolted to the floor, from which you ate your meals, wrote your letters, and the same as the lockers, slept on. You used your hammock if you were going to get whole nights sleep. Namely if not watch-keeping or if you were on day work. There were bars running across the top of the mess to use when you slung your hammock and were suspended from the ceiling very comfortably. Space aboard ship was very cramped but like everything else, you got used to it. I suppose that I was very lucky, in as much as life aboard ship never came very difficult to me. Never having been on a ship or on the sea before I liked it and was a lucky one never to get seasick. It never took me long to get accustomed to the ways of life aboard and also at sea. Getting into the swing of watch keeping was soon accomplished. Stokers (in today navy) enjoy the grand title of Mechanical Engineers I believe. We never had to work with coal or a shovel; it was oil fuel and steam. On watch with us was a Petty Officer who handled the steam valves we handled the oil fuel valves to feed the furnaces. It was not even a dirty job, just warm at times. HMS Stevenstone was based at Portsmouth and worked mainly in the English Channel. It met incoming convoys coming in from the Atlantic Ocean and escorted them along the Channel to ports along our coast. It also made trips across the Channel to the French coast. It was 1943 and the invasion of Europe was being prepared for. Our flotilla worked from Portsmouth so occasionally overnight leave was given. To put it in naval terms we were granted a run ashore. I chanced catching a train to London for a few hours at home on some occasions. There was a young lady with a freckled face that I liked to visit as well. It was made possible mainly because of my father. The return fare then was one pound (twenty shillings) and he always said get home as often as you can. My service pay would not allow me to be able to afford the trip. It may only be the price of a Sunday newspaper now but in 1943, it was most of my naval weekly pay. The kindness of my father made it possible and he was very glad to do so. As mentioned before this certain young lady was becoming a favourite of mine and visiting her house, together with seeing my own family was very welcome. As I mentioned before it was 1943 and the invasion of Europe was being talked about more frequently. We had a few trips across to the French coast that seemed to us to be very important. On one occasion, the day was spent watching Royal Air Force Personnel coming aboard with what seemed to us to be very technical looking equipment. They seemed to be hovering around the wireless room. We were told later that day when we steamed out of Portsmouth that with our flotilla we were going to make our way to the French coast. The little bit of information given to us was that in broad daylight we were to make ourselves seen. In doing so, the Germans would send planes to attack us. Where upon the Royal Air Force we had aboard with their equipment could detect the location of the German airfields. That was in a nutshell the story told to us. Who knows if that was the real reason? We did cruise up and down that French coast and we must have been seen. The German Air Force for some reason I am glad to say did not accept our invitation to visit us. The hours we spent cruising along that coast being a complete waste of time. We returned to Portsmouth and the Royal Air Force personnel together with the important looking equipment left us. Another occasion we travelled across to the French coast is forever fresh in my memory. It turned out to be a complete disaster again but this time we never returned and laughed about it. This time we returned and cried because it was heart breaking. We knew it was something special when we were told that a cruiser would accompany our force of destroyers. If I can remember correctly we would steam out of Portsmouth and assemble by The Needles. There were ships in the force that had come from Devonport and that is where we returned to the following sad day. The force steamed across the English Channel that evening. As soon as you leave, harbour rumours begin to circulate round the ship. The strong one this time was that we were going to attack a German convoy along the French coast. My next watch that day was the 鈥渕iddle watch鈥� which was from midnight till four a.m. That meant that I would be down in boiler room when the action would commence. Starting my watch at midnight with my watch 鈥� keeping Petty Officer we also had the company of an Artificer. His job was to check and run the generator, to make sure we had emergency lighting if it was needed. Having more company things seemed more pleasant also more noisier, and helped to calm the nerves. I cannot recall too well the order of things during the next few hours. The ship was at Action Stations but nothing seemed to happening out of the ordinary. You must remember being shut in at the bottom the ship; you do not know what is happening above you. The only idea you get is from the bridge wanting more steam to go faster, to go slower or to stop. Suddenly it all changed and we knew that something was happening. We got busy doing our job. The telegraph to the Petty Officer was clanging orders. The Captain up on the bridge seemed to be manoeuvring the ship all over the place.

We heard amid all the noise and excitement a whirring sound from outside the ship. We were told later that it was a torpedo passing under or past our ship. After so many years it is impossible to recall how long this, all went on for. When things did quieten down the Captain was moving the ship at a slow rate of knots. We also wondered why we were having to wait to be relieved by the next watch. The time was after four now and we realised things were not right. When they did arrive and apologised, we gladly and tiredly made our way up through the air lock on to the upper deck. The fresh air felt good but the sight that we looked out on did not. Our ship had not fired a single shot. Not one ship in our force had fired a single shot during all the action. What we looked out on was unbelievable. The night was still dark. We could hear men singing; we could hear men crying out. We could see small red lights all around us in the water; small red bulbs, which we knew, were attached to lifebelts. There was a terrible pungent smell of oil fuel, a smell that you can taste for years. If I remember the ship had come to stop and our crewmembers were hanging on to clambering mats, which were hanging down the side of the ship. As bodies floated by and moved or spoke, they were pulled from the oily water and up on to deck of the ship. As they putt their feet on our deck, their blackened faces lit up. They were safe. We stood watching all that was going on around us trying to take in this nightmare. Then the Petty Officer who was my watch-keeping partner rushed to the side of the ship. He then disappeared over the side hanging on to the scrambling mat. He did the same as others were doing, pulling out bodies that were moving. I joined in waiting as men scrambled up the mats and then pulled them on to deck. Grabbing hold of them covered in oil fuel knowing you were helping them but thinking also of the men still out there in the water. The lights on the life belts still dotted about also the cries and the singing, which haunt you for many years. Day was breaking and the Captain on the bridge kept on repeating that he would have to start for home soon. He fully expected German planes to arrive. But he waited and waited giving us more time to rescue more survivors. He did eventually and reluctantly have to start for home as daylight started to lighten the sky. It was so terribly sad that we had to leave the area and for many years, you wonder about those that were left there. Soon after we started steaming for home, some fighter planes of ours arrived for some protection. The oil-covered men were scattered all throughout the ship and were made as comfortable as was possible for the journey home; they laughed and joked, grumbled about the things that they had lost. You knew that later on the memory of this night would haunt them. You are not officially told what happened that night but it seems that the convoy we were to intercept never materialised but a flock of German Torpedo Boats did. It seemed that they must have been waiting for us. They must have been waiting for us and had a very successful night. Our force never fired a shot. The cruiser and I think two destroyers were sunk. Since the beginning of this war, we had been in bad air raids, seen terrible things, The coach carrying Polish soldiers blown up, the night we were bombed out Stepping over the rubble and seeing an arm. Hearing terrible stories about the bombing, but it never prepared me for the sight of those oily figures that we had to ignore in that dark water. The men singing, those crying out. There must have been some that we missed and had to leave. We had to make our way back via Devonport where we said our farewells to the very many survivors that we had rescued. There may have been some reason that we returned to that port instead of Portsmouth. We did eventually return to Portsmouth

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