It has occurred to me that your readers may be interested in learning about Arctic convoy PQ18, in which I paid a small part in 1942.
We were following the disastrous PQ17, which the commander disbanded, leaving the individual ships to fend for themselves.
Unfortunately, these were picked off by the German subs and few managed to reach their destination in Russia.
Knowing about this, we were apprehensive about our chances.
However, we assembled in Iceland and sailed due west towards Greenland.
We were soon spotted by a German reconnaissance plane and we knew we would soon be attacked by subs and planes.
I nearly ended up in a watery grave at the tender age of 21 when a large flying plane which we had been fir-ing at swung round and dropped a torp- edo almost on top of us.
I expected to be blown up and flung myself down on the deck.
Luckily, our commander steered the ship to port and the torpedo just missed us by inches.
It was a narrow escape and we reached our destination in the White Sea a few days later.
Because we had sailed so far north, almost to Spitzbergen (near Svalbard in the Arctic), we had run out of fuel.
A gale sprang up and we were driven helplessly backward and forward, narrowly missing other ships, which were awaiting their turn to enter Archangel (or Arkhangelsk, Russia).
Finally, we ran aground on an island and were stuck there until a large tug managed to pull us off and take us into Archangel.
Sadly, our rudder was damaged and the Russians were unable to sort it out.
We were in danger of being trapped in the sea for the whole of the winter, but the big tugs were able to keep the channel open just long enough for us to escape.
We managed to reach Iceland’s east coast and take on a few provisions before proceeding to Belfast.
Because of the damage, we were sent back to our respective depos.
Mine was Devonport, Plymouth, where we soon found ourselves being posted to the Mediterr-anean for the next two years.
I received my Russian medal late last year.
H Royds, Sunset Avenue, Woodford Green.
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