The Day I Sailed To War! 6th April 1982
By: Kevin J. Porter
Tags: Autobiography, War, PTSD, Military

The Day I Sailed To War! 6th April 1982

Extracts from FEARLESS - The Diary of an 18 Year Old at War in The Falklands

Kevin J. Porter

Tues 6th

Got shaken at 06:45 & told I had colours. Felt a little rough after night before but wasn’t too bad. Did colours, went alright. Got Bridge & Ops rm ready for sea.

10:00 we sailed in Procedure Alfa rig nos 1’s. TV cameras were there. It was a noisy farewell with ships sounding their sirens at us & us returning the compliment. Dockys & Matelots lined the jetty all along the harbour to wave us goodbye, and along the hard, the ferry which came out to us fully loaded, and right out to Southsea there were people waving & cheering. Some had placards, one from some fellas on the beach said — ‘GOOD LUCK LADS’ and when they turned it over it said ‘BOMB THE BASTARDS!’ it made me feel really proud to be going. We got to Outer Spit Buoy (OSB) and dropped anchor. I was on the Fo’c’sle doing flags & it was freezing. I’d been there since we sailed and finally finished at 11:30. Went back on watch till 12:00. Had ‘scran’ — sausage & chips — which are being rationed out and served by the cooks. Now I’m in the mess waiting for action/emergency stations at 15:00 (only practice).

Only had emergency stations and it was wet & windy.

Got last look at England as it faded into the distance. Felt little choked. Had afternoon off.

Saw us on the News.

On watch at 08:00, just came off at 12:00! Quiet watch, but I’m absolutely shattered. We rendezvous with 5 RFAs at 01:00 — glad I won’t be up — should get busy then.

Saw Crichton spoke to her by light (afternoon) maybe last will see of England.

Colours is a Royal Naval ceremonial tradition in which the White Ensign and Union Jack are raised at the start of the day — 08:00. Many refer to the Union Flag as the Union Jack, but it is only the Union Jack when it is flown from the Jack Stay (flag pole at the front of Her Majesty’s Warships). The role of the Radio Operator (RO) in Colours is to report to the Officer of the Watch (OOW) in full uniform in the following format:

Attach both flags (Jack and Ensign and in their bags as they are not to touch the deck) to the appropriate ‘Stay’ at either end of the ship — Jack forward, Ensign aft. Semaphore Tower in the Dockyard, then raises the ‘Preparatory’ (Prep) pennant on the Starboard yardarm, and every ship in the yard instantly raises their Prep on their Starboard yardarms.

We have two ROs on the Ensign and one on the Jack. One of the ROs on seeing the ‘Prep’ hoist, comes to attention and reports to the OOW “5 minutes to Colours Sir!” the OOW acknowledges the report.

The ‘Prep’ is then ‘jiggled’ at 1 minute to Colours.

RO stands to attention “1 Minute to Colours Sir!”

OOW “Colour Party ‘shun’!” The colour party comes to attention.

The ‘Prep’ following on from Semaphore Towers lead is lowered half way down therefore executing the signal.

RO at attention Salutes “Colours Sir!”

OOW “Pipe the Still”

The whole upper deck of the ship and Dockyard stands to attention, faces aft and salutes as the Ensign and Jack are simultaneously raised, in time with the Senior Naval Officer Afloat (SNOFA) who is indicated by a green and white pennant flying from the Inner Starboard Yardarm.

The ‘Carry-On’ pipe is sounded by SNOFA and the order is given to carry on and dismiss the Colour Party.

Sounds easy, but with a hangover, is a pain in the butt! When in a foreign port, this looks pretty spectacular like any ceremonial that the Royal Navy carries out and secretly I always enjoyed doing it.

We then had to prepare for sea to sail at 10:00. This entailed making sure that the bridge signal area was set up both internally and externally. The correct radio channels were activated, the signal lockers and appropriate flags (these were to prove invaluable as we sailed further south) were ready and manuals and signals were available, on the bridge and also the Operations Room underneath the bridge.

The ship was called to ‘Harbour Stations’ and to fall in in ‘Procedure Alpha’. The whole ship’s company takes part in this ceremonial departure; we are all dressed in our Number 1 Uniform and line the ship’s sides as we sail out of harbour.

My ‘Harbour Station’ was always on the f’ocs’le to lower the Union Jack as soon as the last line was released from the dockside — the Union Flag is never flown at sea except for ceremonial occasions in sight of land or at anchor.

The last line was released and the Jack came down sharply and neatly (I always made sure it was done properly!). I fell in Port side at the start of the line with the rest of the fo’cs’le’ party as the tugs pulled us away from our berth at Fountain Lake Jetty (FLJ). This is it I thought, straight into battle, there’s no turning back. I truly believed that we would go to war. In fact, I had no doubt in my mind that we were going to fight and we were going to do the right thing. Mrs Thatcher was not going to back down. We do not let fascist or communist regimes take over our colonies or Commonwealth Countries and let them get away with it.

As we made our way out of Pompey, we were met with a cacophony of sound! Every ship we passed was lined, off caps and 3 cheers from each ship’s company as we glided gracefully by. Every ship blasting their horn and we returning every blast back. It was incredible. The hairs all over my body were standing on end, the grin on my face was huge; none of us could believe the send-off we were getting. The whole Dockyard had turned out to wave us off. ‘Dockies’ and Matelots on every spare piece of jetty they could find were cheering us out. Small boats had gathered in the Harbour and escorted us, the Gosport Ferry was fully laden, people along the Hard, people in their cars sounding their horns. We sailed past HMS Vernon (now Gun Wharf Quays Outlet Shopping). HMS Dolphin on the opposite side had a full turnout of ship’s company. Gosport side was chock-a-block with people waving us off. Past Old Portsmouth and the Round Tower and ‘White Walls’, where Nelson walked through to join HMS Victory before the Battle of Trafalgar, there were crowds of people everywhere, waving and cheering us. Indelibly scored into my mind were the four guys in white overalls on the beach with the banner “Good Luck Lads!” and they turned it around with “Bomb the Bastards!” Brilliant, just brilliant!

Anybody who didn’t feel patriotic that day as we sailed, should not have been in the Royal Navy! I was standing ten feet tall with all this going on around me. The support we were receiving put me in no doubt that we were doing the right thing. I was part of history in the making. I was sailing where countless thousands of men and ships had sailed before, had received similar send offs, had created history. I was sailing in the wake of Admiral Lord Nelson, Lord Louis Mountbatten, the Victory, Royal Oak, Ark Royal and many others. This is what being in the Royal Navy was all about. If it was like this as we sailed, imagine what it would be like when we came home victorious!

Whenever we sailed, we had a following of 4 Landing Craft Utilities (LCU) and 4 Landing Craft Vehicles (LCVP), like little ducklings following mother duck, though these weren’t as cute and they generally carried a nasty punch of cargo and men! They belonged in our tank deck (LCUs) and hanging on davits on the port and starboard side (LCVPs). We always went to anchor just before going into harbour to drop them off and always on our way out to pick up our precious babies. We had to come to anchor to lower our stern gate, flood the tank deck dock and bring the babies in.

Captain Larken loved naval tradition, and always insisted that with the Cable party, a ‘Bunting’ (RO Tactical) was present to use ‘Cable Flags’. These are a numeric group of flags on 3ft long wooden poles that were raised to indicate how many cables of the anchor chain had been lowered or raised whilst anchoring or weighing anchor. If we were anchoring at night, I would use a 3 inch signal lantern with a red filter over it and send the number to the bridge in Morse code. Of course being the sprog (baby) of the department, it was my task to do the Cable Flags. I had been on the fo’c’sle since 09:30 and it wasn’t the warmest of days. Captain Larken’s passion for tradition, and the use of signal flags for silent signalling was to prove a godsend and also kept the Tactical department very busy during our trip south.

When eventually I did finish my watch, I was able to grab some ‘scran’ of sausage and chips. This was being dished out by the ship’s cooks (we didn’t have chefs in the RN they weren’t good enough!). I lie; these guys worked miracles with what they had to feed an extended ship’s company of around 1,250 men. The Chefs generally fed a crew of 600 in normal circumstances. We had 1,250 men almost daily onboard until the day of the surrender. For the landings we had 2,000 men on board. Generally, we were able to help ourselves at the serving counter, but nobody knew how long we were going to be at sea, so the chefs were rationing the portions. No matter what, any food was good to have!

I then went down to the mess, waiting for exercise Action Stations, as part of the start to work up to war. It had been a hectic and emotional morning, so a couple of hours of peace and quiet was a welcome break. When the time came, it was only a “Hands to Emergency Stations”, not as serious as Action Stations, but important nevertheless as we had to know where we needed to be if we had to abandon ship.

During this time, my emergency station was like my action station; on the Starboard bridge wing. We saw a ship in the distance and I challenged the ship by Morse flashing light to identify itself, using a NATO recognised format. The ship identified itself as HMS Crichton, a Ton Class Mine Warfare vessel on which my older brother Paul had served in the early part of his naval career. We exchanged pleasantries and in accordance with Royal Naval Protocol, Crichton requested permission to proceed as previously directed (being the Junior Command), which of course we granted.

The weather was dull and grey, but this did not stop me from sitting on the upper scupper after we secured from emergency stations. The ship may be crowded, but there is always time and a space to be alone. I grabbed a cup of tea in my blue plastic ‘action mug’ and wandered off on to the flight deck. I sat on one of the aft Starboard bollards on the flight deck, watching the white cliffs of the Isle of Wight disappear into the distance. The clouds were low, and visibility was poor.

I felt very emotional at this point and sobbed for a minute or two as I watched the cliffs disappear into the distance. I really did think that this was the last time that I would see England.

When I made my way back to the mess deck, I was feeling pretty low. I had a couple of hours off before going back on watch at 20:00. We watched our departure on the news which again bought a lump to the throat. I hoped to catch an hour’s kip, but there was too much going on, and I was back on watch.

As signalmen it was our job to look out for ships or threats in the distance. We were due to join up with several Royal Naval Auxiliary Vessels — Galahad, Tristram, Geraint and various others to support us in our landings and our journey south. My diary was carried in my respirator bag in a waterproof bag wherever I went. If the ship was to go down, I wanted this diary with me. I originally kept a record of all ships that joined and on what time and date as we sailed south, but deleted, ripped out and shredded the pages as we entered the TEZ, just in case I got caught as a POW at an early stage, and the enemy then had a record of the whole Task Force! Whether this was naivety on my part or over cautious being a communicator I don’t really know, but I wished I’d kept that list and the dates. With each ship spotted, we had to exchange IDs visually using flashing light and I was so glad that I was not on watch from midnight: –

1) Because I was knackered from being awake from such an early hour and the emotion of the day, especially seeing Crichton and the Isle of Wight disappearing.

2) Somebody else needed to take some flak and let me take a break!

It was going to be an extremely busy watch for someone and it wasn’t going to be me this time. I really was shattered, emotionally drained and felt the need to ‘bash some Zs’.

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