大象传媒

The following story by Terence Robertson is out of copyright and appears courtesy of and with thanks to Mike Kemble, and Captain Frederic John Walker.

Alongside Gladstone Dock, overlooking the Mersey, was the tiny Flotilla Chapel where once Walker had read the lessons at Sunday Services. Here, on the morning of the 11th, the crests of the Western Approaches Battle Fleets looked down upon the body of Johnnie Walker resting in a coffin draped with the Union Jack. Throughout the day sailors of all ranks came to kneel and pay silent homage to the man regarded by them all as not only a great leader and gallant officer, but always a distinguished gentleman. Outside, the business of war went on; the merchant ships shepherded by eager little tugs, the rust-streaked destroyers, sloops and frigates steaming wearily home from another grim struggle across the vast sea; and the smarter, gleaming warships proudly leaving harbour after refits to fill the gaps in the thin grey line. The following morning, Nicholas and senior officers of the Command attended an intimate service in the Chapel held by the Reverend J. Buckmaster, and later the body was taken to the steps of Liverpool Cathedral. Six petty officers bore the coffin up the steps between lines of ratings and laid it gently to rest in the choir where a blue-jacket guard of honour stood with reversed arms at each corner. The Dean, Dr. F. W. Dwelly, conducted a short service of Preparation of Resting and candles were lit to throw a pale glow over the single wreath lying on the flag-draped coffin and the hundreds of others massed in tiers in front of the choir, blue floral anchors, chaplets and circ of bloom in all colours from the convoy ports, high-ranking Allied officers, ships鈥� companies, individual officers and ratings, and from the shipping companies whose cargoes and ships had been saved by one man and his team. In the afternoon, more than a thousand people, men and women of the Fighting Forces and civilians, crowded into the cathedral for the funeral service, still remembered as one of the most moving ever held in tribute to the memory of an active service officer. Against the soft background of organ music, Admiral Sir Max Horton, who now reproached himself bitterly for not insisting that Walker take a rest ashore, read a Solemn Acknowledgment. The Cathedral was hushed while he spoke quietly;
鈥淚n the day when the waters had well-nigh overwhelmed us, our brother here departed, apprehending the creative power in man, set himself to the task to conquer the malice of the enemy. In our hour of need he was the doughty protector of them that sailed the seas on our behalf. His heart and his mind extended and expanded to the utmost tiring of the body even unto death; that he might discover and operate means of saving ships from the treacherous foes. Truly many, very many, were saved because he was not disobedient to his vision. Victory has been won and should be won by such as he. May there never be wanting in this realm a succession of men of like spirit in discipline, imagination and valour, humble and unafraid. Not dust, nor the light weight of a stone, but all the sea of the Western Approaches shall be his tomb.鈥�
To the singing of 鈥淎bide with Me鈥�, the flag-draped coffin was borne slowly out of the Cathedral by six petty officers flanked by eight ranking captains of the Command with gold hilted swords held tightly to the waist and clear of the ground. Eilleen, Nicholas and Gillian followed, Andrew was too ill at the time to come, and then hundreds of sailors and Wrens fell in behind. At the bottom of the steps, the coffin was placed on a gun carriage and the cortege marched through the streets of Liverpool for the docks, where the body was taken aboard the destroyer Hesperus, for burial in the seas.
Captain Walker had known so well. When the chief mourners had taken their places on the quarter deck the tattered Battle Ensign from Starling was hoisted to half-mast and Hesperus slipped her moorings for the voyage down the Mersey. Ships of all shapes and sizes dipped their ensigns in salute. Out to sea by the Bar Light Vessel, the light whose beam had cast warmth on so many battle-weary convoys, a convoy was entering harbour down one side of the channel as another was leaving. Hesperus steamed between the two lines of ships and the merchantmen lowered their ensigns while their crews stood bareheaded in a last salute to the man who had swept the Atlantic free of the enemy. In the late afternoon, the destroyer reached the edge of the great, rolling ocean and here, under a darkening sky with the wind strong enough to fleck the grey-green waves with white, the weighted coffin was tilted over the side into the waiting sea.

Continued.....
'This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by 大象传媒 Radio Merseyside鈥檚 People鈥檚 War team on behalf of the author and has been added to the site with his / her permission. The author fully understands the site's terms and conditions.'

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