- Home
- HMS Devonshire
- HMS Devonshire 1st Commission 1962-64
HMS Devonshire 1st Commission 1962-64
- By Robby G
- Published 05/6/2008
- HMS Devonshire
- Unrated
EARLY DAYS
The day after Commissioning was an exceptionally busy one for everybody, spent in storing and sorting out the last minute snags, and when knocking off time came along it seemed strange not to be hopping on a bus up to Oxton. The whole atmosphere had changed as, what had been a daily job of work, became, overnight, our floating home for the months ahead.
Still officially in Contractors’ hand and carrying civilians representing Cammell Lairds and the Admiralty we left the Mersey on November 17th for the formal handover in Liverpool Bay. This should have followed a short full power trial and ended with our return to the Mersey Bar and disembark the civilians. Fate decreed otherwise! As soon as we were in open water it was obvious that the sea state was going to prevent these evolutions and it was decided to press on up to the Clyde For more sheltered conditions. The horrors of this night will live in many minds. Not so much because of our own feelings but because of the discomfort of our unwilling guests who were squeezed into the most unlikely places. Eventually, the ship was signed for at 0421 on the 18th and our civilians went off for the longer, but smoother, journey by rail back from Greenock to Birkenhead—replete with a Charlie Vella breakfast.
Now we were on our own the shake down process started and in the ensuing days we worked our way down to the South Coast where, off Falmouth, helicopter deck landing trials started. Even the confirmed sceptics of the heavier-than-air machine came up and had a goof at the goings on and had to admit that it might be useful for getting the mail. Continuing our progress along the coast we called at Torquay, Plymouth and Portland and, on December 7th, made our way up harbour at Portsmouth. Here we received a warm welcome from our families and a signal from the C. in C. suggesting that even Guided Missile Destroyers should not have all their Radar aerials rotating when entering harbour. (obviously some jealous bastard who has’nt been to sea in many a year)
The leave period and the setting-to-work which followed will he remembered for the bitterly cold weather. The edges of the harbour were frozen over, icebergs slid past the ship on the ebb tide and the Bosun’s Mate’s ki froze in the mug—or so they said! It was obvious that all the ties with Merseyside had not been broken when the time came to slap in for the leave warrants.
Photo. Icebergs in Portsmouth Harbour
A great deal of interest was shown in our shiney new ship and every day brought some party of visitors to pry into the technicalities or just to say she didn’t look much like the last one. The Brass didn’t leave us alone either and by January 16th, when we sailed for further trials, the Admiral Tote in the Ops.
Room showed that we had been visited by 13 officers of Flag rank and this number increased to 24 by the time we sailed to the Mediterranean. ( another free jolly for the non sea goers!)
Although the broad outline of our future programme was known there was still room for speculation. Fuel was added by the string of letters received by the Commander from Jenny, Queen of the Hong Kong side party, offering her services to the ship.( In later years Jenny received a MBE, not bad eh for painting ship, flogging ‘goffers’ and ditching the gash! All I got was a BEM or rather a Bollocking Every Morning for just being there!)
During January and February sea trials and the periods of recuperation between occupied most of our time and we visited Plymouth and Portland. At Plymouth 38 hardy souls accepted President Kennedy’s challenge to do the 50 mile walk and set out to Bodmin and back. Midshipman Boyce was first home in just over 13 hours and Lieut. Porter was the only other finisher in 17 hours. About 15 others managed 35 miles or so and all the starters reached the half way mark. Darkness and cold were the principal enemies.
At a time when night leave was being given at St. Helen’s Roads our genial quiz-master, E.A. Wills, decided he knew a quicker than the M.F.V. of getting ashore and later confirmed that the sea temperature was 32 degrees or thereabouts. He didn’t even get an extra tot or survivor’s leave.
On March 4th we entered the final phase of sea acceptance when we left Portsmouth for Seaslug firings at Aberporth. Frustrations with the weather and numerous dummy runs were commonplace because, for these fully recorded firings, it was essential to have near perfect visibility. Lieut.-Cdr. Davidge worked overtime and produced the right conditions on March 7th and we heard, most of us for the first time, the noise of tearing cloth that meant “Seaslug Away.” Suffice to say that this and the other firings proved the working of the system and that the efforts of the past month had not been in vain.
Photo. Seaslug Away!
During an interlude in Plymouth on March 16th a ceremony was held on board at which we were presented with the first of eight Mini- sail sailing dinghies and a silver trophy, the gift of the Devon County Council. The Chairman, Sir George Hayter Hames, made the presentation and he, the Lord Lieutenant of Devon and members of the council were entertained on board. This ceremony was combined with the presentation of a fine silver rose bowl by the County Territorial and Auxiliary Forces Association and representative Officers and Men of units throughout Devon were also entertained on board. We really felt that our name meant something!
Firings over and with our full outfit of missiles on board we returned to Portsmouth to make ready for the Mediterranean, grateful for all the support and help we had received from the Admiralty civilians and the Contractors—but oh so glad to be on our own at last!
The day after Commissioning was an exceptionally busy one for everybody, spent in storing and sorting out the last minute snags, and when knocking off time came along it seemed strange not to be hopping on a bus up to Oxton. The whole atmosphere had changed as, what had been a daily job of work, became, overnight, our floating home for the months ahead.
Still officially in Contractors’ hand and carrying civilians representing Cammell Lairds and the Admiralty we left the Mersey on November 17th for the formal handover in Liverpool Bay. This should have followed a short full power trial and ended with our return to the Mersey Bar and disembark the civilians. Fate decreed otherwise! As soon as we were in open water it was obvious that the sea state was going to prevent these evolutions and it was decided to press on up to the Clyde For more sheltered conditions. The horrors of this night will live in many minds. Not so much because of our own feelings but because of the discomfort of our unwilling guests who were squeezed into the most unlikely places. Eventually, the ship was signed for at 0421 on the 18th and our civilians went off for the longer, but smoother, journey by rail back from Greenock to Birkenhead—replete with a Charlie Vella breakfast.
Now we were on our own the shake down process started and in the ensuing days we worked our way down to the South Coast where, off Falmouth, helicopter deck landing trials started. Even the confirmed sceptics of the heavier-than-air machine came up and had a goof at the goings on and had to admit that it might be useful for getting the mail. Continuing our progress along the coast we called at Torquay, Plymouth and Portland and, on December 7th, made our way up harbour at Portsmouth. Here we received a warm welcome from our families and a signal from the C. in C. suggesting that even Guided Missile Destroyers should not have all their Radar aerials rotating when entering harbour. (obviously some jealous bastard who has’nt been to sea in many a year)
The leave period and the setting-to-work which followed will he remembered for the bitterly cold weather. The edges of the harbour were frozen over, icebergs slid past the ship on the ebb tide and the Bosun’s Mate’s ki froze in the mug—or so they said! It was obvious that all the ties with Merseyside had not been broken when the time came to slap in for the leave warrants.Photo. Icebergs in Portsmouth Harbour
A great deal of interest was shown in our shiney new ship and every day brought some party of visitors to pry into the technicalities or just to say she didn’t look much like the last one. The Brass didn’t leave us alone either and by January 16th, when we sailed for further trials, the Admiral Tote in the Ops.
Although the broad outline of our future programme was known there was still room for speculation. Fuel was added by the string of letters received by the Commander from Jenny, Queen of the Hong Kong side party, offering her services to the ship.( In later years Jenny received a MBE, not bad eh for painting ship, flogging ‘goffers’ and ditching the gash! All I got was a BEM or rather a Bollocking Every Morning for just being there!)
During January and February sea trials and the periods of recuperation between occupied most of our time and we visited Plymouth and Portland. At Plymouth 38 hardy souls accepted President Kennedy’s challenge to do the 50 mile walk and set out to Bodmin and back. Midshipman Boyce was first home in just over 13 hours and Lieut. Porter was the only other finisher in 17 hours. About 15 others managed 35 miles or so and all the starters reached the half way mark. Darkness and cold were the principal enemies.
At a time when night leave was being given at St. Helen’s Roads our genial quiz-master, E.A. Wills, decided he knew a quicker than the M.F.V. of getting ashore and later confirmed that the sea temperature was 32 degrees or thereabouts. He didn’t even get an extra tot or survivor’s leave.
On March 4th we entered the final phase of sea acceptance when we left Portsmouth for Seaslug firings at Aberporth. Frustrations with the weather and numerous dummy runs were commonplace because, for these fully recorded firings, it was essential to have near perfect visibility. Lieut.-Cdr. Davidge worked overtime and produced the right conditions on March 7th and we heard, most of us for the first time, the noise of tearing cloth that meant “Seaslug Away.” Suffice to say that this and the other firings proved the working of the system and that the efforts of the past month had not been in vain. Photo. Seaslug Away!
During an interlude in Plymouth on March 16th a ceremony was held on board at which we were presented with the first of eight Mini- sail sailing dinghies and a silver trophy, the gift of the Devon County Council. The Chairman, Sir George Hayter Hames, made the presentation and he, the Lord Lieutenant of Devon and members of the council were entertained on board. This ceremony was combined with the presentation of a fine silver rose bowl by the County Territorial and Auxiliary Forces Association and representative Officers and Men of units throughout Devon were also entertained on board. We really felt that our name meant something!
Firings over and with our full outfit of missiles on board we returned to Portsmouth to make ready for the Mediterranean, grateful for all the support and help we had received from the Admiralty civilians and the Contractors—but oh so glad to be on our own at last!