The Process of Recruitment
At seventeen I joined the Royal Navy. " Join the Navy" ! the posters on the walls called out - no mention of war but to "see the world, learn new skills and be a man !". Everything the glossy brochures portrayed attracted me - lying on the beach with girls, girls, girls, money filling my pockets and the world at my feet. It seemed a life fit for a king. It was also a far cry from the reality I lived in, coming from a small town with too many kids, too few teachers and too few jobs. This left me with a feeling that my life was over before it even began. My education was non existent possible because I was found to be dyslexic after leaving school. What chance did I have! The first test set before me was multichoice and I guessed my way through the questions. Amazingly I passed. The interview came next and I bluffed my way through that too. Then the medical which was easy being seventeen, fit and healthy. The whole thing was like a Rollercoaster ride and I could not stop it. Suddenly bang, I was in the Royal Navy before I could blink. It was as simple as that.
Basic Training
Basic training lasted for 6 weeks. I was one of a group of 24 recruits sent to HMS Raleigh in Plymouth. We came from all walks of life and all parts of the UK. In that time we were knocked into shape physically and mentally. It was arduous and often exhausting, with the day starting at 5 am and ending with hitting the books at night. I thrived on the regime and passed everything easily, one of 12 who made it to the passing out parade. The next stage was seamanship training. Now we started to learn about life on board a ship, from knot tying to man overboard exercises. Again I enjoyed learning all these new skills and passed with flying colours.
Remember at this point my life had gone from being stuck in a small town with no prospects to becoming a young man with a purpose in life, with money to burn and the world at my feet. So far it all met my expectations. The girls did come thick and fast. They were lying in wait to pick us up at the local pubs and night spots. I learnt the hard way that most of them left you with STD's or took your money and moved on to the next sailor. I had more money than I knew how to spend, more alcohol than I knew how to drink, more friends than I knew how to trust. Little did I know I'd now entered the world of the throw away life style and to survive was to throw or be thrown, do anything and everything to come out on top. I slipped into my new way of life like a well oiled cog in the engine of the War Machine.
Twist of Fate
What did I want to do? They felt I would be good at radars so I headed off for special training. It was like something out of a 1950's black and white war film, lights flashing, a strong green line going round and round your radar screen but without the customary bleeps we heard in the movies. They gave you millions of pounds worth of computers and equipment and all the time to play with them. It was like a big game of battle ships and of course we won every time. The twist of fate came when we sat our final exam, the whole class failed so we had to sit it again and we failed again. This was not uncommon due to the exacting standards set. Those of us who had scores close to the pass mark were given their deployments. The top three in the class got HMS Invincible, the next one or two got HMS Sheffield and the next highest got HMS Coventry. I cannot remember the remaining order of deployments. The ones that still had not made the grade stayed back for more training. I came in at number three and was off to the Invincible, my best mate got the Coventry. I never saw him again after that final day when we moved out to join our ships and my memories of him fade as the years pass. I often think about what my life would of been like if I'd got one or two questions wrong and my score had been lower? Both the Sheffield and the Coventry never came back from our first engagement of war. My mate made it back alive but I often wonder what state of mind or health he is in now.
HMS Invincible
I have a vivid memory of arriving by taxi at the jetty and looking up at this mammoth block of grey steel with sailors everywhere. It reminded me of an ants nest, with every ant knowing their job and place and at that moment I felt like the size of an ant. I climbed the gangway with my kit bag on my back and joined the ebb and flow of the ants nest. Time flew by on the first day as I was inducted into ship life and learnt my way around. The ship was full of the noise of engines and machinery, it buzzed all the time, from deck to deck the buzzing never stopped, even at night when we lay in our bunks. She was like a three dimensional maze, you could go up, down, forward or back, initially never sure where you were going as all levels looked alike. Inside it was like a small town with shops, a place to get beer, a place to eat, it even had it's own TV station. My mess deck where I slept housed 32 others. Space was at a premium, either that or the designers thought sailors were midgets. On my first day the size of the ship was overwhelming but as time passed the ship became smaller as I grew ever more confident. Everybody made me feel as if I belonged to this giant ants nest. It became my new family.
When the day dawned and we finally cast off and headed for the open sea I felt like a true sailor. We sailed around playing war games, we even visited a few places here and there. Everything the glossy brochures said had come true. My life was great, what could possibly go wrong?
What The TV Said in April 1982
I was on leave at the time and I'd just spent a week away with my dad, a lorry driver, driving around the country. It was a Friday I think and we had finished up at my Uncle's house. I was grubby from the trip and I remember thinking that I needed a bath. The TV was on in the lounge room and suddenly it was speaking directly to me! Requesting all those from the HMS Invincible to return to their ship ASAP as it was due to sail to the Falklands on Monday the 5th. I jumped up and rushed home. I grabbed my bag then rushed to the station and was on a train to Portsmouth within the hour. I met up with a few of the lads from my ship on the train and they filled me in on what had happened over the last week. It was funny because some of them thought the Falklands were next to the Orkney islands off the coast of Scotland and that we would be back for weekend leave. We were laughing and drinking, joking what it would be like to go and kick some ass and still be back to party on the weekend! Little did we know the Falklands was 8000 miles in the opposite direction.
Remember the ant hill, well when we arrived back to the ship, it was as if some one had ripped the top off the ****er and the ants had gone ballistic. I arrived at my mess deck only to find out that it was my rostered night off. The last one before we set sail on the Monday. The lads and I ( those that were not married) hit the town for a piss up to end all piss ups. The girls where out in force, ****ing for their country and **** we did, drink we did, remember it was still all a game to us. The anticipation of going to war is not like fighting a war or even life after a war!
Going To War
Going to war was like my first trip to the fairground when I was a boy. The excitement is overwhelming, your blood is boiling and you jump up and down, wanting to go on every ride and win every prize at the side shows. I wanted to eat all the candy floss and drink pop until I burst. Going to war seemed like those old TV movies, you know the ones where the hero never dies even when he runs out of ammo. Going to war makes even the weakest of men strong, the shortest grow tall, it puts hairs on your chest and turns your balls into steel. Going to war felt like a dream come true.
It took two weeks to get to the Falklands, two weeks of drills, drills and more drills. War games for breakfast, lunch and tea. Everyone had to know their place and their responsibilities, no room for slip ups and definitely no room for errors. Shifts changed to 6 hours on, 6 hours off. Life now was strictly confined to work, eat and sleep and not necessarily in the same order. We where oiling the cogs of the fighting machine, we had to run like clockwork. Even after all this it was still a game to us. The more we did, the better we got, the greater the feeling became that we were invincible. We were the INVINCIBLE !. The HMS Invincible, the latest addition to the royal navy, a modern aircraft carrier with the most up to date equipment and technology, the pride of the fleet.
What Was That?
One night, about half way to the Falklands, a contact appeared on my radar screen. The aircraft was still a long way away and must have been flying high for it to show up on my screen. We were diagonally across from Buenos Aires and the contact did not fit the pattern of a commercial flight path. As it got closer and closer, we strongly suspected that it was trying to check us out and pinpoint our position. The funny thing was how the mood in the Ops room changed. This was not a drill, it was real. We tried to establish radio contact but there was no answer. I think we even sent a couple of jump jets up to take a look, at which it then turned and disappeared If it was a reconnaissance plane, did it get what it wanted? I'll never know or really care what or who that plane was because it was from this point onwards that the game stopped and the reality of what we were doing started to sink in. I could see the change in the eyes of my shipmates.
Kick Off
I don't remember the exact time at which we reached the two hundred mile Total Exclusion Zone, or the war zone placed around the Falklands, as the 6 hour shifts left little distinction between night and day. My particular job at the radar display was the most important job of the lot as I was the long distance air surveyor. I operated 1022 radar which covered the distance 256 miles down to 128 miles radius from the ship. My job was to report immediately any contact appearing on the display. The whole fleet relayed on me and let me tell you now I never missed a contact, even after sitting at my display for hours on end.
It was an anticlimax that first official day of war. I remember hoping for a satisfactory outcome between the two governments so that we could turn round and go home. The next day I lost any hope of this as things took a turn for the worst. Argentinean fighter planes started to attack us. I'll never forget that very first time a contact suddenly appeared on my display bearing around 240 at 180 miles, the next sweep of the radar and it was still there, "My God this is for real ! ", I thought. I logged it in to the computer then I tried to report it to the next in the chain of command, but I could not speak the words. It was at this moment I confronted the possibility of my own death and that took some time to come to terms with. After a few moments I found my voice and the wheels of war were set in motion. Our planes where sent to investigate, a dog fight took place and the Argentineans were shot out of the sky. "A job well done" I remember the men cheering as the planes went down, cheering because two young men were dead! It went on like this for the first few days and we worked out that the Argentinean fighter pilots could not night fly as they would attack only when it was light and mainly at dawn and dusk. This was to our advantage as a pattern was set and it gave us time to rest and recuperate at night.
The Day My Life Changed Forever
I was sitting at my display watching it go round when a contact appeared around 250 and at 180 miles, so I waited for the next sweep and there it was again. By this time my actions were routine, I logged it in to the computer and reported it as I'd done so many times before but this time the A.A.W.O (Anti Air Warfare Officer) who commanded the situation turned round and said there was nothing there. The next sweep of my radar came and there it was so I reported it again, now it was at 160 miles but the same thing happened again with the A.A.W. O contradicting me. Precious time was passing us by, we did not alert the fleet, we did not send planes, we did nothing. The next sweep of my radar and it was still there but now it was at 130 miles so I reported it again, this time the A.A.W.O became annoyed and told me I was chasing rabbits. By this time the contact had gone from my screens range to my mates, who was sitting next to me, his job was to track a contact from 128 miles down to 56 miles. He now reported that there was a contact at 120 miles and closing and the same thing happened. I changed my display down to the 128 mile range and to the 992 radar to watch it move closer.
The contact was now at 80 miles and closing. The radar kept on sweeping and the contact kept on coming, The radar swept again but this time there were two contacts. My mate did not get a chance to log the second contact in to the computer as it was only on our radar display for two sweeps when it disappeared under radar coverage, this indicated to us that we were dealing with an Exocet missile which was designed to skim above the waves but below radar coverage. These missiles have 2 functioning radars in the head, one facing down which keeps it on an accurate horizontal plane so that skims above the water at 6 feet which is well under our radar coverage. The second radar is forward facing and homes in on the target. My mate and I reported the double contact and the fact that one had suddenly disappeared and then told the AAWO and still he would not listen to us. He told us we were riding a bike? What ever that meant? Valuable time had passed. I could not understand how our superior could not have seen what was so obvious to us. But it was his call and it was impossible for an acting Able-bodied Seaman to contradict a Lieutenant Commander.
To understand the impact of the situation that had developed it helps to know about some important training we underwent on route to the Falklands.
We trained for a special procedure which was code named Red Alfa. Red Alfa is a drill that prepares the whole ship for battle. We perfected this drill until we could close the ship down and have it in battle readiness in four minutes. That is all it took, four minutes and we were ready for anything with everyone at their station, men at their radar displays or manning their guns, most at their fire fighting stations. This is a universal naval procedure that occurred on every ship in the taskforce simultaneously. Four minutes and you could defend yourselves from any attack, four minutes and then you could dodge and weave an attacking missile, turning at the last minute which could confuse the missile. Another defense was to fire off chaff into the air around the ship. Chaff is the word used for a cloud of silver paper that when fired into the air may convince an attacking missile that it is a better target than the ship, simple but effective. Another defense tactic was the use of Sea dart missiles. These missiles were short range and were basically full of chain. They were designed to explode directly in front of the incoming missile, thus creating a blanket of steel to rip the missile or other aircraft out of the sky. Another important manouerve was to sharply turn the ship to run on the same course as the missile so that it offered as small a target as possible. We even had helicopters that would throw themselves in the path of the missile as a last resort.
The First British Casualty
It was around 80 miles when my mate and I saw two contacts on our displays although only lasting two sweeps this was followed by one contact for two sweeps until it turned and headed back, it's job was done. Still the AAWO did not believe us and the fleet did not go to Red Alfa.
A few more minutes went by then the reports started to come in. HMS Sheffield had been hit by an Exocet missile. The Sheffield was not at Red Alfa and the men of the Sheffield were caught unprepared . Some were having showers or eating their breakfast, some slept whilst others wrote letters to loved ones, they never knew what hit them, doors and hatches where open and nobody was at their fire fighting stations. A missile such as the this one which resulted in the first British casualty of the war is designed to penetrate the hull of the ship before it explodes thus aiming to damage the nerve centre of the ship making it dysfunctional. I always remembered it as 22 men who died that day although later it became known as 20.
Any respect I had for myself died that day along with those 22 sailors. I should of done something, I should of made the AAWO listen to me. The Sheffield never changed course, it never fired it's chaff or even it's missiles in defence. It was a sitting duck. I'm guilty as charged and I'll always punish my self for the death of those men on the Sheffield. I've carried the shame of that day around with me for 17 years and will do until I die. I could of given those men four minutes four times over if I'd stood up and made myself heard. If only if I had tried. The only defence that I will allow myself is that I had been trained or should I say brain washed in the ways of the ranking system. I was an acting Able seaman, only 19 years old, whilst the AAWO was a Lieutenant Commanding Officer, a much older man, supposedly trained to command a battle situation. Who was I to question his authority? Who was I to break the chain of command and go against all the training I had undergone from day one? I was a plebe in the scheme of things and although I had performed my job to the best of my ability it meant nothing when my word was doubted. I cannot forgive myself and feel responsible for what happened to the Sheffield. I let those men down because I should of been strong, even if it meant getting my arse kicked, because I may have given them sufficient time to prepare, to go into Red Alfa, to successfully defend themselves. Surely coping with the wrath of an officer would be better than hating myself as I do now.
After the news broke there was a stunned silence in the Ops room, everything went quiet, no one talked and when conversation resumed it seemed to concern anything but what had just happened. For some odd reason the AAWO came over to our section offering around a bag of sweets, it seemed a sort of conciliatory gesture but we were too shocked to accept this token bribe at the time and it was only later that it came back to me. The AAWO's change of manner even then, signalled his acknowledgment of what had occurred, it symbolised his guilt and seemed an enticement to forgiveness.
Coming Home
The ironic thing is that myself and everybody else came back a hero. But I was a hero that hated him self so much that the only way I could get through the day was to get smashed out of my head, even for a few hours so I did not have to think about what I had done. No one should be classed or labelled a hero when fellow men had died as a result of his action, or inaction as it were. But then again no man should be sent to war, to kill or be killed, to settle mere political squabbles over who owns whose land.
Post Script - A Simple Philosophy
If I had a wish it would be to destroy every weapon of war and teach every person to, at the very least, tolerate or respect their fellow travellers in life. We are only here in this world for the briefest of moments and still we teach our young to hate. Safe guarding our cultures, our nations, because we are too scared to look for a united culture. Instilling hate and intolerance in our children, too naive to understand the implications of their actions.
The right to love your fellow brothers and sisters is a concept so simple that it terrifies those who have the power over our lives, instead they manipulate the very structure of our existence by promoting a society based on individualism, materialism and economic rationalism. True Democracy does not exist in western culture run by the powerbrokers and their puppet governments, it is a comforting lie that is sold to the people so they think they have freedom of choice. Even now when birth place and or religion shape the confines of our lives we are sold the passion of our convictions as an end in itself when the only true conviction we should follow is how to survive as a community, in harmony with each other and the increasingly weakened eco system of mother earth. We are not the ruling species but should instead see ourselves as the guardian species of the earth, for all living creatures. Instead our short sighted focus and material greed means the profit margin dominates all motives. We build and build, from the industrial revolution to the cityscapes of today, but are we fooling our selves that we are invincible and immortal. We are not the gods or the forces that called this world into being yet we act as if there is nothing to stop us. If any thought is given to the consequences of our actions it is to see the world as a disposable commodity. We hope to survive by launching ourselves into space to conquer other worlds. The fiction of Science fiction becomes a fact or a fate that to the optimist allows us to think we are not doomed as a race but justified to continue on the same path of raping and destroying. The cycle of mans ignorance will be complete.
We are told that to down size companies enables them to survive in todays cutthroat business environment. That the pain and sacrifice is for the good of all but perhaps the people who construct these policies could apply the same philosophy to the human race and aim at downsizing the worlds population to enable the earth to survive.
But to truly survive I believe we should give everything we have to educate our young to love and care for mother earth and all it's travellers and wonders and secrets. The philosophy that they then inherit will be passed on to their children and so on, surely it is these lessons that will ensure that our time will not end.
So what that we can build a car or a spaceship, transplant a heart, clone an animal, or build a bomb capable of destroying a whole country or planet. Big ****ing deal !. Showing that we can care for and live in harmony with the earth will show who ever created this complex series of universes that we are worthy of progressing up the ladder of what is the definition of intelligence. We are not lost but are getting close to it. Let's look in to our young ones eyes and give them the hope that will save the earth so their young ones will know how to embrace the love of creation.
It will be such a shame if this fine Ship that fought in the Falklands War ends up being turned into corned beef tins!
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