1950s: A great life on the ocean waves

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An Avenger lands on the deck of HMS Albion

Aircraft carrier HMS Albion

National Serviceman Coline Coupe on shore leave in Torquay, in December 1953, with some of the shipmates

National Serviceman Colin Coupe, of Findern, in his flying gear at RAF Hornchurch

In Tom Hickman’s The Call-Up, a history of National Service, he states that the National Service Act became law in 1947 and finished in 1963 and that National Servicemen saw action in the following theatres of war: Korea, Egypt, Kenya and Cyprus. Many also did overseas service in peacetime, 72 per cent serving in the Army, 26 per cent in the Royal Air Force and two per cent in the Royal Navy. The following is a brief account of one of that seafaring two per cent.

National Service usually started at the age of 18, but apprentices in engineering were allowed to complete their studies until the age of 21.

In the early 1950s, I was an engineering apprentice employed in the drawing office at Aiton & Co, at Stores Road, Derby, and was studying for my HNC in Engineering at Normanton Road College (now demolished). I was therefore deferred until the age of 21.

How I came to join the Navy dates back to early 1953 when I was having my hair cut by Cyril Elkington at Yeoman’s barbers shop in St Peter’s Street.

I happened to pick up the Picture Post while waiting my turn and, much to my surprise, there was an advert in it for National Servicemen to train as aircrew in the Royal Navy.

I had two brothers who trained as Navy pilots in the USA. When the war in the Pacific ended, they returned to the UK. I cut out the advert and applied.

My application was successful and I was required to attend RAF Hornchurch, in Essex, to take medical and aptitude tests. I was accepted for training as an observer, provided I lost some weight! They told me I would be informed at a later date where to enlist.

A few weeks later, I was called for a National Service medical at the Guildhall, in Derby. Recruits for the RAF were taken first, followed by the Army, leaving me stranded on my own! When I told them I had already been accepted by the RN, some surprise was shown but I had to take the medical anyway. Fortunately, I passed!

In November 1953, I received the following telegram: “In view of training squadron movements, it will be necessary for you to commence National Service in the RN on Wednesday, November 4, 1953, and not November 9 as previously stated. The Ministry of Labour will contact you to sign a form authorising them to call you up without the statutory 14 days’ notice.

Signed, Admiralty.”

And so it all began. I travelled on November 4 to HMS Daedelus at Lee-on-Solent, near Portsmouth, and reported for duty.

On Bonfire night 1953 and the following six days, I was square bashing, cleaning and polishing the mess, being kitted out with uniforms etc. I had my first promotion – to “Captain of the Heads” (toilet cleaner) and, of course, the statutory haircut! The uniform included a great coat which, on inspection, I found to be made by Smith’s, of Drury Lane, Derby.

On the seventh day, all 40 of us raw recruits were on our way again, in strange uniforms, carrying enormous kitbags and hammocks. I had my own grand title of LFX 931797 Upper Yardman (Air) C F Coupe (upper yardman being a relic from the days of sail).

Our destination was HMS Indefatigable – a Second World War aircraft-carrier moored in Portland harbour. The sight of 40 raw recruits, transferring from a motor fishing vessel up the side of a carrier, complete with kitbags and hammocks, caused much amusement to the regular seamen on the upper decks.

With little instruction, our hammocks had to be slung in a very tight space. More hilarity for the regulars! After only two nights, we were transferred again to a sister carrier, HMS Implacable, which was our home for the next 12 weeks of basic training. There was a bit more space but it was just as chaotic.

The training included all the usual marching and rifle drill (often on an ice-covered flight deck), seamanship classes, sea navigation, cutlass drill and daily chores of scrubbing decks etc.

In the middle of the 12 weeks, we put to sea for a weekend in Torquay (this was to qualify for duty free goods on board). This was a pleasant break for us.

After the basic training, I was commissioned as a sub lieutenant RNVR. One of the features of our training was the experience gained from time spent on other types of ships, while based on HMS Implacable. The first of these was HMS Solent (a wartime S class submarine), attached to the mother ship, HMS Maidstone, also at Portland harbour.

Little did we know that this was an introduction to the work we would be doing later. The subs were exercising with hunting surface ships, which dropped grenades representing depth charges whenever we were located.

That was the only time I had a rum issue. The submariners combined their issue and re-distributed it to include the extra two of us.

My next destination was HMS Seahawk, at Royal Naval Air Station Culdrose, in Cornwall, where I was trained to become an observer on a course at the Observer Training School.

Subjects included air navigation, radar, communications – Morse and voice – sword drill for officers (again old cutlasses). Many hours were spent in the classroom until my first flight. This consisted of sitting on the airfield perimeter track and being suspended from a search and rescue helicopter, completing a circuit of the airfield “at the dangle” all the way.

My first training flight was in a Sea Prince, piloted by Lt Garvin, with the instructor and three pupils in the rear. This was with 749 Squadron for a total of 32 hours, concentrating on practical navigation, communications and radar.

Flying then continued with 750 Squadron, flying in Mark 7 Fireflies with a pilot and trainee observer. My day and night hours totalled 168, concentrating mainly on tracking and navigation. This completed my training at Culdrose and my last training flight in a Firefly was on November 12, 1954, virtually 12 months after being called up.

Out of the 40 who started at Lee-on-Solent, eight passed out as observers on November 18 and, as a farewell, we flew to Valkenburg – a Dutch Air station, as qualified observers. Our wings were presented by Rear Admiral Guy Willoughby.

After two weeks’ leave back in Derby, training restarted at the Royal Naval Barracks, Portsmouth, where I took a divisional officer’s course, before joining HMS Dryad to do a plotter’s course.

In January 1955, I was sent to another temporary home for further training, HMS Gannet at RNAS Eglinton, in Northern Ireland (near Londonderry). This time it was for an anti-submarine course. In total, I did 44 hours of day and night flying.

The final examination consisted of leading the squadron out to sea, locating the submarine on the surface, instructing the sub to dive, continuing to plot the sub under water and, eventually, bringing in the destroyer to “kill .

On March 4, I passed out from anti-submarine school, my training complete.

I was given seven days’ leave, so I travelled home to Derby, then north to RAF Lossiemouth in Scotland for anoxia tests (lack of oxygen) in a decompression chamber, then back to Derby.

My next posting was to 815 squadron, a front line anti-submarine unit, stationed at Culdrose, in Cornwall, as an observer/telegraphist.

While there, I briefly went back to sea. This was for two weeks on a frigate, HMS Starling, based at Portsmouth, for a sea navigation course with five colleagues.

HMS Starling had a fine wartime record in the North Atlantic, protecting convoys against German submarines. We spent most of the two weeks sailing round the Isle of Wight and district, learning sea navigation in more detail.

On the first Friday, we returned to Portsmouth and tied up to sister ship HMS Magpie, commanded at one time by Lord Mountbatten.

Shore leave was available for the weekend, so six of us drew lots for one to stay on board. Guess who drew the short straw? Half the ship’s crew were off on weekend leave.

In the early evening, the captain left a message to say he was going to London for the weekend and would be back O800 on Monday. That left the 1st lieutenant and myself on board.

Then the 1st lieutenant said he was going on leave and would be back at 0730 on Monday (just before the captain). So, I was left as senior officer on board, i.e. I was captain of HMS Starling for the weekend – my first and only command!

All went well until the lock on the rum stores jammed shut and the crew could not get their rum issue! Was there to be a mutiny on my first command? With the advice of the chief petty officer on board, we borrowed the rum ration from HMS Magpie, moored alongside, and returned the same when the lock had been freed. What a relief! The rest of the weekend proceeded peacefully.

Back at Culdrose, I rejoined my squadron, flying Avengers and the next weeks were split between Culdrose and Eglinton. I was crewed with a pilot and observer as a telegraphist (occasionally as observer).

During the squadron's time in Northern Ireland, the mess consumption of Guinness increased considerably. The brewery questioned this and discovered it coincided with the arrival of 815 Squadron! As a result, all the aircrew were given a Guinness tie with the golden harp and permission was given to spray golden harps on to all the engine cowlings.

In early July, the squadron was transferred to front line service aboard HMS Albion, a light fleet carrier. My log book shows day and night flying times, including 39 deck landings and two steam catapult takeoffs.

I was now receiving full time pay and enjoying the flying, life aboard ship and travel. Our destinations included Scandinavia, the Arctic Circle, part of the way to Russia, the Mediterranean and a complete circumnavigation of the British Isles. By then, I had flown more than 350 hours in numerous aircraft types and experienced life aboard a fleet carrier.

But my time was up and HMS Albion was anchored at the side of the Forth Bridge. With the captain's permission, the telegraphists went ashore in the ship's cutter and dispersed – myself back to Derby and a drawing board at Aiton's.

All was not over, however, as I joined 1844 Squadron of the Midland Air Division. It was a period of Z reserve flying at weekends from HMS Gamecock, an airfield near Nuneaton, flying Avengers and mainly spotting for the Territorial Army. I even had one flight over my home in Littleover.

This added a further 33 hours to my records. During my time with 1844 Squadron, I was promoted to lieutenant RNVR and was sent for two week’s training in Malta. I flew out by commercial airline and navigated my way back in an Avenger via Cagliari, Cuers, Chatreux and Ford, in Essex.

It coincided with the Suez Crisis but we returned home because Egypt had no submarines!

The last entry in my log is: Flying hours 359.15 day, 28.50 night. Reliable and steady observer. Signed – Captain and Commander of 1844 Squadron.

What a way to do National Service!

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