WHEN the Second World War broke out the Royal Navy was still the largest in the world. It boasted 15 battleships and battlecruisers, seven aircraft carriers, 66 cruisers, 184 Destroyers, 60 submarines, and 45 escort and patrol vessels.

Without such a fleet at its disposal to operate in such theatres of war as the North Sea, the Atlantic, and the Mediterranean, Britain’s role in the war would have been vastly different. As veteran Roy Wickins can testify.

Roy had his first taste of life on the seven seas many moons ago in 1929 when he and his family sailed from Liverpool across the Atlantic Ocean for a new life in Canada.

The salt air and the sea spray obviously had a profound effect on nine-year-old Roy because seven years later he enlisted to join the Royal Navy and served proudly for many colourful years, including the duration of World War Two.

I met Roy when he was a 90-year-old retiree living in Abergavenny and over a whiskey or three, he reminisced about his life on the ocean waves.

“There is no better way for a young lad to see the world than to join the navy and set sail into the great unknown,” reveals Roy, a man whose pride in his time as a sailor was evident by the amount of naval regalia he surrounded himself with in his well-kept Abergavenny flat.

A sharp mind and an appearance that belied his 90 years also paid grand testimony to Roy’s active life of travel and the beneficial nature of salt air.

The call of the Deep Blue first sang its song for Roy when his father, a World War One veteran named Ernest Wickins, decided to emigrate to the Verdun Montreal province of Quebec.

Alongside, his mother Helen and brother Jim, Roy and his father boarded the S.S. Regina and crossed the Atlantic to Quebec, where they settled near the St. Lawrence River.

Roy recalls, “Living so close to the St. Lawrence River was a novel experience. In winter

it froze over to a depth of two feet or more so that you could walk on it.

“The ice from the river was cut into large slabs by saws, pulled out, and placed onto horse-drawn sleighs.

“It was then taken to a large wooden building on the shore where it was packed for use in the summer.”

Roy explained just how fierce the Canadian winters were and how they helped to put a bit of fire in his belly and steel in his resolve as he was growing up.

“Their winter started about the end of October and heavy snow continued to fall until late April. By then the snow had packed down to about three or four inches of ice on the pavements.

“Towards the end of the winter when the thaw set in, the river began to flow really fast with masses of large ice chunks being carried out to sea.”

At the time, Roy’s father worked as a milkman, and his son fondly recalled how the horses his dad used for his sleigh were ex-fire horses, and, “If dad wasn’t there when a fire engine passed they wandered off down the road following it.”

Because his father Ernest had been afflicted by trench foot whilst serving in the First World War, his feet were badly affected by the icy temperatures of Canada and Ray explained, “In the summer of 1934 we returned to Britain because my Dad had frozen his feet and nearly lost his toes during the previous winter which was severely cold with temperatures of 20 degrees below zero.”

The voyage home was where Roy’s love of all things nautical began in earnest, aboard a tramp steamer on a journey which he refers to as a ‘boy’s delight and one he believes responsible for sowing the seeds for of his navy career.

“On the voyage, we were shown the engine room and the bridge, and the food was very memorable - I can remember having curried prawns for breakfast,” said Roy.

On returning to Britain, Roy lived in various locations in England and tried his hand at an array of jobs including working at a rope and string factory, working in grocers, and working in a butcher house about which he said, “I will not go into details of killing the animals, just that it was very primitive and very gory.”

Towards the end of 1936 Roy decided he would join the navy because, “living in Heathfield I used to see a sailor on leave and he was wearing an overcoat - I always wanted one so it was then I started to seriously think about joining the Navy - that and wanting to see the world of course.”

The first ship Roy saw service on was H.M.S. Ganges. It is said that Ganges boys were always picked for fast promotion, and it certainly seemed that way for Roy who rose rapidly through the ranks from a Boy first class to Ordinary Seamen, Able Seaman, Leading Seaman, Torpedo Man, and finally to Petty Officer Electrician.

Ironically enough because Roy could not swim when he joined the navy, he had to attend swimming classes for three months at 5.30 am every morning, because, “If you couldn’t swim you couldn’t go to sea.”

Roy recalls, “We also had lessons on rope work and went rowing on the river Stour. We also had classes in seamanship and how to steer by compass bearing.

“After nine months we were drafted to Portsmouth, and I was given a service number I’ll always remember - PJX150324 - the P denoting Portsmouth.”

Drafted for further training at Portsmouth onboard Iron Duke - a World War One Battleship, Roy revealed, “The mornings before breakfast we scrubbed the upper deck and weekly scoured it with blocks of sandstone, which we called ‘Holy Stones’ because when we were scrubbing it was as if we were kneeling in prayer.”

The Iron Duke dry docked during the summer and all the boys went ashore for a month to Fort Gomer, a fort that was one of a ring surrounding Portsmouth, but which is now a housing estate.

Roy’s next draft was to Simonstown in South Africa to join the cruiser Amphion.

“Our first trip in the Amphion was up the East Coast of Africa to show the flag in the Ports of Port Elizabeth, East London, and Durban in South Africa. Further north we called at Lourenco Marques and Beira in Mozambique,” said Roy.

“As there was no room in the mess deck for me to sling my hammock, I had to sleep on the upper deck under cover by the torpedo tubes. I had all my clothes in the hammock and made sure I tied my shoes on as sometimes the waves rolled over the deck.

“During the 1938 crisis, we took to sea to patrol the South Atlantic off the coast of South Africa. It was the roughest sea I encountered and everyone on board was seasick.

“On the way home to Portsmouth, I remember on the Cape Verde Islands in the Atlantic the water around was filled with swimming sharks and the butcher baited a hook and caught one. Its backbone was taken out and made into a walking stick for the Captain.”

Not long before the Second World War began, Roy was drafted to join a new destroyer called HMS Janus.

“The day war broke out we sailed across the North Sea to the Hook of Holland to embark our officials from Germany,” explained Roy.

“During Xmas 1939 we docked in Hull fish dock before sailing north to Scapa Flow to escort the cruiser Suffolk across the North Sea to Norway where its guns bombarded Stavanger airport.

“Whilst returning to Scapa we were attacked by German dive bombers. Suffolk was hit on the stern and slowed down. Our ‘B’ 4/7 gun turret fired so many shells that it failed to recoil and the breech hit the deck.

“As the battleship Royal Oak was sunk in Scapa Flow by a German submarine, the whole of Scapa was cleared of ships and because we had the most up-to-date submarine detector equipment, we swept the whole of Scapa Flow to see if the sub was still there but it had escaped.

“We returned to Norway to move French Alpine troops from Namsos to Mosjoen further north up the coast. Somehow one or two of our ship’s company found a barrel of French Rum. As we sailed most of the ship’s company were drunk.

“We then sailed to Alexandria in Egypt, whilst there we escorted small convoys to ports along the North African coast to support the Eighth army fighting in the desert.

“We then escorted the aircraft carrier Illustrious from Alexandria so that its aircraft was in striking distance of southern Italy. During the night they flew off and sank the Italian fleet in Taranto Harbour. When daylight came German dive bombers came out and attacked us and made several hits on Illustrious.

“We continued to Malta so the Illustrious could have emergency repairs. During the attacks, I was on the steering wheel and we were swerving to avoid the bombs which fortunately landed in the water.”

In March 1941 Roy was drafted to HMS Woolwich, which was a destroyer’s depot ship moored in Alexandria Harbour, but unfortunately, his previous ship Janus was to meet with a terrible fate.

“Not long after I left the Janus it was bombed off the Lebanese coast by Vichy French planes and hit on the bridge and forward boiler room. Several of my friends were killed.”

Janus was later sunk for good by a bomb off Anzio during the Italian campaign.

In December 1941, whilst serving in Alexandria, Roy was fortunate enough to meet his brother Jim, who was also in the navy.

“My brother came to Alexandria on a damaged destroyer and it was lovely to see him again, sadly it was also the last time I would see him because not long after, the ship (HMS Lively) which Jim was serving on was bombed whilst protecting a convoy. Jim never made it and was killed in action just two months short of his nineteenth birthday.”

Roy returned to Portsmouth in the summer of 1942 before being drafted to join a destroyer patrolling the East Coast of America.

“We arrived in US Naval barracks in Brooklyn to wait for HMS Havelock which had been escorting convoys to the Caribbean. Royal Navy ships had been helping out on the US Eastern seaboard as the U-boats were sinking large numbers of ships.

“Taking a convoy to Quantamino in Cuba, we refuelled and sailed for Trinidad where a convoy of five oil tankers was waiting to be escorted to North Africa.

“They were all filled with petrol. A few days into the Atlantic the tankers were attacked by U-boats, four were sunk. It was at night, and the sky was lit with the flames from the burning ships and oil on the water.

“200 survivors were picked up and we had most of them onboard until we reached Gibraltar.

“We sailed to Gibraltar and on to Liverpool on the way in the Bay of Biscay a U-boat fired a torpedo at us. Our captain altered course so that it passed harmlessly down our port side. We fired a pattern of eight depth charges but could not sink it.”

Between January 1942 and March 1944, Roy escorted convoys of ships in the Northern Atlantic from Liverpool to St John's in Newfoundland.

“Winter times in the North Atlantic were atrocious with waves between 40 and 60 feet. Once en route to St. Johns, it was so bad that the convoy was scattered and we lost everything, our boats and even the mast.

“Our worst fears in the convoys were moonlight nights when the U-boats could see us, as well as the explosions caused by a ship being sunk.”

Leaving the Havelock, Roy was drafted to HMS Glenroy which was dry docked in Cardiff having a hole repaired in the hull after striking a mine near the Normandy beaches during the D-Day invasion.

Further service on the HMS Aurora, HMS Mauritius and HMS Seafox saw Roy’s life in the Navy come to an end after 16 years of service.

Roy added, “The day I left the Navy, on my way home I stopped off in Woking to be fitted with civilian clothes. This brought back a memory of the first time I went ashore and went home in my new uniform. The feelings of pride I felt in being part of the Royal Navy as a young man was something I knew would stay with me for a lifetime..... and it has!”