Читать книгу They Were Just Skulls - John Johnson-Allen - Страница 7

This book tells an amazing story of a life served in the Royal Navy, of the sort of seaman that our country has been fortunate enough to breed for centuries. Fred Henley was born in 1924, and at the age of 94 is still going strong.

His stalwart conduct of duty covered a period of some seventeen years afloat; on Thames barges and then in the RN from the outbreak of war. He served in cruisers, destroyers and coastal forces. Armed with a cutlass to board a German supply ship, he epitomised the transition from a mode of warfare that Drake would have understood to becoming an Asdic specialist, one of the new technologies that transformed naval warfare. In the thick of fighting for five years, he saw action in the Atlantic, the Arctic, and the western and eastern Mediterranean. He was involved in two large allied invasions, and was part of the vicious but little-known campaign in Greece and the Ionian Sea as the war drew to a close.

In several amusing, sometimes poignant, anecdotes we see a young man who is honest about his drives. On VE Day, for example:

There was one girl – she was dancing, she was lifting her frock up and she had red white and blue knickers on. So I said, ‘Don’t forget, at sunset the Union Jack comes down.’ She said, ‘Ooh, you might be lucky!’ But I’d had too much to drink for that!

As part of the Allied occupation forces in Germany, he continues to give examples of his transparent view of life. He talks of fraternising with the civilian German population and refers to one young woman:

Anyway she took me home to meet mother and we got on very friendly. She says to me, ‘I cannot let you have sex, because I have a husband.’ I asked where he was. She said, ‘I last heard of him in Stalingrad.’ I didn’t tell her I didn’t think he’d be coming back.

Having survived, Fred Henley remained in the Navy after the war, at first in the hydrographic flotilla. Then as a married man he volunteered for submarines, for the extra pay. He was one of a handful of survivors from the loss of the submarine HMS Truculent, one of the great post-war submarine tragedies. Few people, even in the Navy, are even aware of this dreadful incident and certainly not the details of human error that led to this huge loss of life. The account is gripping, and explains the strange title of the book.

John Johnson-Allen has put Fred Henley’s personal accounts in the context of world-changing events, and in particular provides a wonderful snapshot of the Royal Navy of that era.

West of Spithead